Not My Cup of Tea
by The Ultimate Otaku
Summary: Home in England, Peter and Edmund become estranged when Edmund's sexual preferences are outed. Lucy intervenes, and they just might repair things...but a cup of tea and a dream from Aslan changes the nature of their relationship. What now? COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_Please don't be scared off by a temperamental, moody Edmund and the screaming argument at the very beginning. Or that 'angst' in the summary. It's justified._

**NOT MY CUP OF TEA**

**by The Ultimate Otaku**

_CHAPTER ONE_

_XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO_

_Edmund's POV_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXO  
><em>

Edmund was not happy. In fact, he would have to say this was one of the worst days of his life. He missed Narnia. England was a hellhole in comparison. He missed being grown; being a sixteen year old male with an over-protective, bossy older brother and two sisters was not fun. What was more, he had been triumphant; he had kept Tom a secret for the entire fall semester, and had gotten away from Peter. His brother was three years older than him, and had just started university. He had helped Peter save up for it, and saved up so that he could attend a nice all-boys boarding school; it had taken two summers to earn enough, but that was fine by him. Anything to get away from Peter!

Peter. Edmund scowled. Peter was even more infuriating since they had last returned from Narnia. Now they were teenagers, nearly men, in England; but it was nothing compared to being grown in Narnia. In Narnia, Peter had been forced to show his younger brother some respect (which Edmund thought he deserved, for being fairly responsible and not "running around like a chicken with its head off," as Peter had once described him).

In England, Peter was bossy. He was nosy. He ordered Edmund around. When Edmund didn't want to go to school this past beginning of semester, he had almost dragged Edmund into the car to leave for the train station. When Peter had a project he wanted Edmund's help on, he would call Edmund and make Edmund skip classes. The only rule that Peter actually followed consistently, and that he expected his siblings to go by, was to do whatever Peter wanted!

And then there had been Tom...Edmund felt his eyes stinging, and resolutely pushed his fingertips against his eyelids. No tears. Tom was beautiful, tall and blonde. He had bright green eyes, and freckles dusted across his nose...he had been kind, and listened to Edmund's troubles. He had been funny, too, and befriended Edmund within their first week at school. They'd skived off classes together, and driven around the country. And there, beneath that oak that had reminded Edmund of one by Cair Paravel...they had reveled in each other.

Edmund could still remember the way the other boy's skin tasted on his lips; the way he would kiss Edmund, slowly, all over, until it drove Edmund mad; he remembered the way Tom would laugh loudly when Edmund got roaring drunk, and then become suddenly serious when Edmund dragged him back to the dorms and had him in nothing before the door was properly shut.

Now it was all over. A few letters over winter break; a mention of some girl, a redhead; and then, nothing. No letters. He'd stolen Peter's car in his anxiety, and drove to London to visit Tom. She had been there. Edmund had nearly hit her, but then he'd remembered. He was a king. He was royal. It would not do to hit a woman.

So Edmund had left. And now he lay on his bed in his room, with his stomach growling. He groaned when he heard a knock on the door, and turned over to stare at the wall. The knocking continued. Edmund stood up to scowl at his reflection in the mirror. From its lopsided position above his dresser, the mirror showed a pale face, with dark angry eyes. They were bloodshot, and the skin underneath was discolored from lack of sleep. He bit his full lower lip again furiously, watching blood come out with a tiny bit of satisfaction. Then he turned away from his pathetic reflection and shouted at the door, "WHO IS IT?"

The firm little voice of Lu came out tentatively, "Ed, are you hungry? Dinner time. Mum's worried about you...she went out to get dessert, to try and cheer you up. I know you aren't doing homework like you said. Come eat."

Edmund sighed, and swore beneath his breath. He hadn't told any of them about Tom, but since the lack of letters, they'd all noticed he was bothered about something, he supposed. Lucy always knew him better than the other two. Susan would try to reason him beyond feelings to look at everything logically, or tell him what he should be feeling, or be his therapist. That only made him angry; at himself for being weak, and at her for being so coddling. Peter would want him to "man up", of course, and not be such an emotional wreck. Lucy, on the other hand, was neither chastising nor coddling, but would simply state the facts. She knew that he was sick of trying to be the perfect, responsible brother like Peter. She simply accepted his moods, and talked to him like all was normal.

"Alright, Lu. Just...gimme a minute."

He heard her walk away, and stood up. He ducked out of the room to the bathroom to wash his face and pee, and then marched his way slowly to the dining room.

The sight that met him nearly made Edmund turn around. His siblings sat orderly and neat at the table, with their hands folded in saying grace. Peter sat at the head of the table, with his blonde head bowed down in thanks. His napkin was perfect. His fork was perfect. Every little wave of hair on his damn head was perfect. Even the way his mouth moved a little in prayer was too serene and sweet. He hadn't a single freckle or blemish. He wasn't pasty like Edmund. With the light from the kitchen behind him forming a halo of golden light on his head, he looked like an angel.

Edmund bit his lip again. Susan was the perfect little angel, too, but her coloring was more like his, dark hair and pale complexion. Her long hair was plaited nicely, and she still wore her school things. Lucy, on the other hand, looked up at him when he stepped into the room. Her bright red-blonde head and that round face with the one crooked tooth in her smile almost, _almost_ made him smile. But he wouldn't. Then they would think he was doing fine and all the regular dinner talk would drive him into a fury.

One thing that Edmund prided himself in was that he at least admitted his own flaws to himself. He knew himself. He looked at who he was, and how he thought. Unlike Peter, he didn't overestimate himself.

"I saved a seat for you, Ed." Peter inclined his head to the empty seat on his right, as if that was a new, amazing thing he had thought of and not the same every day of the week.

"Thanks," Edmund forced out, and sat down at the table. He knew he'd been late and missed grace; he knew if mum were around, she'd be giving him that knowing stare from across the table. Thank god she wasn't here right now. He'd be able to just eat dinner and then go back to his room.

Edmund purposefully ignored Peter and Susan's gazes on him, and piled salad, potatoes, and gravy onto his plate. When it was sufficiently mountainous, he dug in.

God it felt good to eat. For a moment, he could ignore his brother's curious, snuck-in glances, and Susan's sympathy, and just chew.

Then, Peter let the other shoe fall. Edmund recognized it coming by the way Peter cleared his throat, and put down his cup with timed, precise delicacy. Lucy shoved Edmund's cup closer to him, and he saw this for what it was: _drink_, she was telling him, _so that you won't have to look him in the face while he says this._

So Edmund picked up his cup and drank, but Peter was sitting right by him, so he couldn't ignore his words.

"Edmund," Peter said carefully, "Under normal circumstances I would be very upset, considering that you took my vehicle without my permission this morning after breakfast, and judging by the miles, went nearly across the country -" Edmund could hear a tiny bit of anger there, and put his cup down in time to see Peter share glances with Susan. Rallying for support, as usual. Jesus.

"But," and here Peter looked at Lucy. He was so obvious! He had no tact when it came to family, it seemed; only his enemies had trouble reading the Magnificent like an open book. "I've decided to be lenient, Ed. I know that you've been having trouble sleeping lately, and something's been on your mind. I've held off asking about it because I could see it was something you wanted to deal with yourself. Evidently, judging by today...well, I'm sorry whatever it is didn't work out. Because you're in such a bad state at the moment, I'm going to let it go. Please just ask me next time you want to use the car."

Edmund bit his lip again, and stared down at the table. Shit. He had been hoping, for a moment there, that Peter would be angry. Then they could have a fight, and Edmund could vent some rage. But no. Peter had decided to be the diplomat. Oh how Magnificent of him! Ugh. Edmund didn't feel as hungry anymore. He wished he could do a bout of sword fighting or something right now. Damn.

Edmund stared around dully at the small, cramped kitchen, the narrow hallway, and the dirty fireplace in the living room. Finally, he forced himself to meet Peter's blue eyes with his hazel ones.

"You're right," he said hoarsely. "It didn't work out. I'm supposed to say thank you for your being so kind and considerate, right?" His eyes narrowed to a glare as he continued to look at Peter. "You want me to bow down and say, 'thank you, your majesty' for your forgiveness? Well I don't think so!"

Lucy sat up a little, and reached over to grab his wrist, saying, "Edmund, please..."

He threw off her hand and slammed down his fork, and stood up, resting his hands on the table. He hadn't even looked at Lucy, and kept his eyes on Peter. Peter was frowning now, with his arms crossed over his chest. It felt good to see him angry, too. To see him unhappy.

Edmund couldn't stop now. "I'm sick of you! I'm sick of your preening and your questions, your acting like you rule everything at home! Well, you know what? YOU DON'T! You're barely nineteen here in England, and I'm sick of all your bossing!"

"Excuse me -" Peter said, but Edmund cut him off. "I'm sick of your acting like I'm supposed to be so happy when you're happy with me! I'm not your subject who wants to please his master, you know! I'm not your DOG!"

They could hear the sound of the car coming up the driveway. Peter had his hands very tightly on his knife and fork now, and his cheeks were flushed pink. He was positively glaring at Edmund, and Edmund loved it. Yes. THIS was the reaction he wanted!

He continued raving, feeling a grim satisfaction from it. "You don't care what's been going on with me; you're just being nice because of Lucy! I HATE IT! STOP pretending to be sympathetic, when really you're just curious to nose into my business!"

Peter's face was flushed even more now, and he stood up suddenly, roaring, "I AM NOT! You're just too-"

Edmund slammed his fist on the table, and slammed it again when Susan opened her mouth to try and break this up. He felt his blood pumping fast in him now, and it felt good. He wished he'd yelled this much at Tom, but he hadn't wanted to appear the emotional fool. Yelling at Peter was different. So he said, "You know what, I'll TELL you what's been going on!"

Susan was giving him a reproachful glare, Lucy looked curious, and Peter, oh he could see Peter was furious. Good. He'd be even more furious in a minute.

"I'll tell you, alright? So you can stop asking me about my letters, and _you_" he pointed at Susan, "Can stop coddling me! Okay? I met a bloke! He was great! He was so fucking great -"

"Language, Ed -" That was Susan.

"Fuck language! Let me finish! ...His name was Tom. He practically moved into my room, 'cause I let him." Edmund felt a lump in his throat and swallowed it down, searching for words that would make Peter even angrier. Why not just tell the whole truth? Yeah. That would rile him up. He would be mad for days. Maybe even a week. Then maybe he'd avoid Edmund, too. That would be a relief.

He could see Peter opening his mouth to say something, and that only made him angrier. He finished quickly, almost shouting again, "We buggered all over town! He, he sent me all those letters, and now's he's buggering some red-haired bitch in London, okay? THERE! So you can all just leave me the hell alone!"

He turned around and kicked his chair away from him, feeling anger and satisfaction simultaneously burning within him, hot air in his nose and another lump in his throat. Damn it.

Peter wouldn't let him go, after that. Of course. Edmund half wanted to storm out and half wanted to stay, so he walked a little slow, and before he was in the hallway Peter marched up from behind and grabbed his shoulder, whirling him around. Peter had bright red spots high in his cheeks, and his usually peaceful blue eyes seemed like they might shoot sparks. His hair was even messed, a rarity. He held Edmund down with his other hand on Edmund's other shoulder, and then it seemed he couldn't stand to touch Edmund, because he suddenly pushed him away.

"What were you thinking, Edmund." His fury was unusually quiet today. Edmund wished he would at least scream. "How could you...you...with a boy! Did you even think? Did you even use your brain at all?" Peter's voice was rising now and he had his hands curled like talons, as if he'd like to shake Edmund or tear him apart.

"I can't believe this! All the trouble I go to- to help mum, and raise you right, and then you go off and -! WHY are you so ungrateful? I'm trying my hardest I can with work and school, with Narnia feeling so far away and -"

"Don't you try to get my sympathy! You won't get it! You never get it! You never get me! Here you are talking about yourself and all your troubles again, and ignoring everything I just said!"

"I'M NOT IGNORING IT! How could I ignore it? You put yourself out like some sort of - of - cheap thing, and, w-with some strange boy no less -"

"HE WAS NOT STRANGE! What are you suggesting? Just because I went and buggered some boy, I'm strange? I'm dirty now? I'm a sinner? You're going to throw your righteousness in my face, aren't you? Have I sullied your conscience? Are you going to throw me out because I'm not your brother anymore just because I looked for someone who'd give me an ounce of love and respect -"

"Don't!" Peter held one finger up, and he was so close now that his spit landed on Edmund's chin. His voice shook with fury as he said quietly, seething, "Don't you go saying that I have no love and respect for you. I do. I just wish you would listen sometimes. Then you wouldn't have had to go and look for it in some - some gross -"

Edmund shoved Peter's hand out of his face and turned his back to him. "Forget it. I'm tired of you."

He stormed down the hall, and made sure to slam the door as hard as he could, and lock it. When his mum came by later, he ignored her, and pretended to be asleep.

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOOXOXOXOXOXOX_

_Peter's POV_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXO_

Peter had resolved that he would not speak to Edmund. He just couldn't. Every time he even looked at his brother, it all came up again inside him. He was furious. He was hurt. But the feeling that he hated most in himself was his jealousy.

Peter was jealous of this boy, Tom. It was a feeling that he absolutely hated, and he felt it very rarely. As Susan often remonstrated, Peter thought too highly of himself. But he didn't think of it like that. Peter's philosophy was that if he did not try his best at everything, then how could he be happy with himself? And if he was happy with himself, then he could help others, specifically, he could take care of his siblings.

Their mother was an ailing, tired woman, who had never been able to shake off her husband's death. The times they were away at the Professor's - spending time in Narnia - had not helped her to become stronger. Instead, she pressed further in on herself, like a turtle wanting its shell. When Peter was younger, this had hurt his feelings, but age had made him realize that his mother didn't do it on purpose. She didn't want to hurt any of them. She just couldn't handle the world anymore.

So Peter took it on himself to take care of his siblings. And he thought he did a good job of it, usually. Edmund was always the kink in the pattern, though.

Edmund. It had been a while ago - years, now - that Peter had started to take extra notice of his brother. Peter's body was older in Narnia, but in England, it was full of hormones and teenage frustration. This whole thing had started in Narnia, anyway, when he'd gone through the teenager thing the first time. He loved his brother, as any older brother should, but...there was more.

It was the way his stomach felt like it flipped sometimes, when Edmund laughed. It was the way he had tried hard, in Narnia, to lay off and just let his brother be. It was watching Edmund take up the part of a king, and grow as a person. At least in Narnia, Edmund was more responsible, he was less moody, and he seemed wholly capable of a number of things without needing Peter's help at all. And it was so good to watch him grow like that...but Peter watched him too much. He knew it. Tumnus had seen it. Lucy would have seen it, except Tumnus distracted her. Susan had been occupied in her own romances, dancing with various princes, except she could never decide on which one was _the one. _

Peter, the more he watched Edmund, knew that his heart had already decided. Edmund was his. Edmund was _the one_ for him. But his mind refused to accept it. They were brothers! So he told his heart to shut up, and tried to focus on the work of being a king. At night though, as he lay alone, he longed for the warmth of someone beside him, and Edmund's smiling face swam into his mind.

And then there was his body. His betraying, awful body. He remembered wishing he could only switch bodies, or become bespelled by some beautiful nymph, and then it would all be alright. He had found himself watching the way his brother moved during sword practice with others. His brother's body was becoming taller, and adding on muscle. Twice, now, Peter had dealt with the agony of seeing Edmund grow into his body and become quite handsome.

Edmund had always been shorter than Peter, and moved more clumsily. Now, he was still shorter than Peter, but he had muscle definition in his arms and his chest, his shoulders were broader, and his voice had deepened to a silky, sensual cadence. Although he wouldn't ever be as graceful as Peter, he was quick in battle, and at home he had the slow, swaying gait of a cheetah.

Peter liked the way Edmund would run his fingers through his thick, dark hair when he was frustrated or trying to figure something out. The wavy tendrils that Edmund sometimes let grow a little long would become wild. Edmund's hazel eyes seemed to turn colors with his moods, darker when he was angry and capturing light when he was happy. He had a full mouth that a nymph had once told Peter was "like freshly squeezed berries," and his jaw was chiseled and smooth.

The betraying body that Peter had gotten so used to denying - and trying to fulfill occasionally with kisses from various nymphs and princesses, which always failed - wanted Edmund. It wanted Edmund's mouth to kiss. It wanted Edmund's body to twine around his own and hold and lick and caress. When he heard of Tom, his brain seemed to leave all rationality behind. He'd found himself yelling back at Edmund, even though he'd told himself not to. Usually Peter was a master of self control and sacrifice. He should have let Edmund yell and then leave; he shouldn't have fed Edmund's moodiness and temper.

But he'd felt jealousy crawling into him, dark and slimy, and she whispered angry words in Peter's ear, which he had repeated in their argument. At night, she fed his imagination images of his brother naked and hard, gasping under the body of another boy, or Edmund moaning as the same ominous figure, dark and unnaturally large in Peter's dreams, feasted his lips and tongue on Edmund's cock.

The hurt was easier to let it just flow in him. He hadn't liked hearing that Edmund was tired of him, or that Edmund thought he was too controlling. Edmund just didn't understand what it was like to be the older brother - the parent, really - with all the responsibility. All Edmund had to take care of was school; Peter had to take care of himself and everybody else. It was not an easy task, and not one he always relished. Edmund made sure of that.

The fury he felt was for his own self more than Edmund; he was furious at himself for being so bristling with jealousy. That had made him lose his self control and rise to Edmund's anger; usually, it was easier to let go. The jealousy made it impossible for him to let it go this time, though.

Peter tried to shut jealousy out, and just focus on work and school. He drove for long hours on the weekend, letting the wind tousle his hair, and enjoying the brisk winter breeze. He even found himself lying in the snow one afternoon and returned home sopping wet. When Susan asked him how he'd gotten like that, he said simply, "I just stepped outside a little," and when he saw Edmund in a corner staring at him from over a book, he resolutely looked away.

Edmund, Peter was sure, was still fuming. After all, he'd given Edmund the impression that he was absolutely disgusted with Edmund, for buggering around with some boy. And Peter was. But he knew this made no sense, because he'd thought of buggering Edmund himself, a few times. These were the times where he lost control in the middle of the night after a wild dream, or when he had the bath tub to himself and was feeling discontent. He went out with friends one night, and tried to drown all of his feelings for Edmund in drink and girls. It wasn't the first time he'd done it. But all he had left the next morning at his friend's place was a headache and a phone number he would never call.

Being with a girl was wholly different than buggering another boy, being buggered by another boy, or even touching or thinking of another boy like that, in Peter's opinion. He wished fiercely now, sitting in his room attempting to do homework, that he could at least be satisfied and pleased with just any boy, as Edmund was. But every time he even considered going out with one, or kissing one, his entire self seemed to recoil. It wasn't that he wanted boys. He just wanted Edmund.

Three days of successfully ignoring Edmund - with an explanation to his mother that consisted of three words, "Had a fight," - and Peter felt no better. He looked up as a knock came to his door, and lunged up to help the person struggling on the other side with the stuck handle. He needed a distraction now.

He wrenched it open, and to his simultaneous relief and disappointment, it was Lucy.

"How's the work going?" She smiled at him. Peter smiled back. Lucy was one of those people that was so good at noticing things. She always knew what was going on with each of them (and often had to explain it to one of them. But she had stopped trying this, as of late, with Peter and Edmund. Peter wasn't sure why. He supposed angry teenage boys were a little intimidating, even to their fourteen year old sister).

She walked in behind him, and Peter flopped onto the bed and pushed the chair up for her with his foot. He wondered why she was carrying a cup of tea on a tray, and why she hadn't brought any for herself.

"Homework is going alright. You?"

Lucy smiled. "I'm not working. I finished mine yesterday. I'm reading one of Susan's books."

Peter sat up. "Uh oh. Which of Susan's books?"

She laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not reading the dirty ones that she hides from you that I know you harassed her about last year…back when she used to read and not just do makeup." Lucy sighed.

Peter smiled, and said again, "Which of Susan's books?" He didn't want to open up again the troubles between Susan and Lucy…trouble with Edmund was far worse than Susan's vanity, in his opinion.

She brightened, saying, "I'm just reading the classics. Jane Eyre, Austen, and that sort..."

"Oh. Good." He frowned at the thought of Susan's books (but at least she wasn't fantasizing about other girls, or her brother; her appetite was normal). Then he scooted himself up more on the bed to sit closer to Lucy.

"Um, why the tea?"

She looked at it, and then back at him. "Well...I thought maybe...if you brought it in to Edmund, he just might take it. It might help things a little."

Peter looked at her, and then looked at the tea cup. It was such a little thing. How would that help? Sighing, he looked back at Lucy and said, "I doubt it. He'll probably just throw it in my face, if he even lets me in his room."

Lucy looked at him intently. She sat back, crossing one leg over the other and her arms across her chest, copying him. Then, with one of those impish Lucy smiles, she said, "Look, just try it, won't you? I mean, did you ever think that maybe...he's tired of you being angry with him?"

Peter scowled. "It's only been a few days. How'm I supposed to forgive him that quick? Plus...he seemed to enjoy it when we were yelling at each other."

"Yes, but that was then, and he was in a mood. You know how he is. He just wanted to spread his gloom. Now, he might be feeling different."

Seeing his doubtful expression, Lucy hopped out of her chair, saying, "Well, just you try it. Please. Susan and I are going out to do errands with mum; we'll be back in a few hours. You two have a go. If you yell more, it can't be worse than right now, can it?"

He half scowled at that, as she walked to the door. "Don't jinx it, Lu!"

She laughed, and shut the door behind her.

Peter lay back on his bed, legs crossed, one foot jiggling. He stared at the tea for a while. It was a peace offering. It was humbling himself before his brother. Ed might like that. But Ed still thought that Peter was sickened by him, when the fact could be no further from the truth. It was the opposite...he shuddered, trying to fend off wayward daydreams of Edmund, and fought his way back to reality. He listened attentively to the sounds of the women of the house leaving, and when he heard the car drive away, he got off the bed.

Then he sat back down. He sat there for a minute or two, or three, and stared at the tea cup. He hoped Lucy had remembered that Edmund liked tons of sugar in his. Ah, what the hell. It was the thought that counted, wasn't it?

Resolutely, trying to ignore his lurking doubts, Peter picked up the tray with the teacup sitting in the middle, and opened his door quietly. It was a trick only he knew how to do, and for some reason, he felt like if he were quiet, then Edmund would be quiet, too. No more yelling, he resolved._ I will not yell! Even if he yells at me, I'll take it calmly. And if he yells at me for that, I'll...I'll..._

He walked down the hall and paused in front of Edmund's door. Holding back a sigh, he lifted his hand to knock. Then he stopped, because he noticed the door was already open a crack.

Now what? Had Edmund done this on purpose to invite him in? Was he out? These days his door was always closed, whether he was in or out, though. So he was definitely in...

Peter could hear a heavy breathing coming from in the room, and wondered if maybe Edmund was asleep. Then he heard something like a groan, and thought, _he's definitely asleep. Maybe not having a great time of it, but still, asleep. I can leave the tea by his bed and tell him it was from me later, and then if he's actually not angry with me anymore, and realizes I'm not mad at him, he'll approach me later. Then he'll feel like he initiated the make-up and feel good about it._

He put his hand on the doorknob, and pushed just a little. With both hands on the tray, he pushed into the room, and paused to steel himself for what could be Edmund's anger, if he wasn't actually asleep.

Edmund wasn't angry...but nor was he asleep? Peter studied the strange bedcover-y shape on the bed. Edmund had his knees up and the bedcovers pulled up to his chin, but then there was a movement beneath the covers and, when Peter took a step into the room he looked closer at Edmund's face.

Then he realized what Edmund was doing, and swallowed hard. His brother was coiled in the sheets, lying on his back. His head was thrown back against the pillow, dark hair splayed about. That sensuous mouth the nymph had admired was open and panting. Occasionally he let out a moan or a grunt. His eyes were shut, with his long eyelashes curving delicately on his flushed cheeks. Peter could see the shape of his chest rising and falling quickly beneath the sheet, and lower, somewhere in the vicinity between his chest and his upward-pointing knees, was a repeated movement that shook the covers...

Peter licked his lips, unable to take his eyes away. He clenched his teeth and held the tray with shaking hands, as he heard his brother groan in what was clearly pleasure. The movement behind the cover changed, and he saw Edmund slide one foot down the bed, until it hit the foot board with a 'thunk.' Peter wondered what his fingers were doing, how he was playing with himself…

Was he pressing hard, or sliding his fingers gently against the smooth, sensitive underside of his cock? Were his hands shaking? Did he like it rough, like Peter did, and ever use his fingernails? Peter bet he did. Maybe Edmund was fisting himself, and drawing his grip up and down his hard length...He was moaning more now, and his foot had pulled the bedcovers down, so that now Peter could see his chest. His senses told him, with no protest from his brain - it had disappeared sometime between two of Edmund's loud sounds - that he wanted that bed sheet to be pulled down further, and he hoped Edmund was naked.

The nymph had had no idea how delicious Edmund was besides his red, red mouth. He was like a female Snow White, it occurred to Peter, with his dark hair, that mouth, and his pale skin...But Edmund was more gorgeous a sight to Peter than any girl. He had muscled arms now, and his erect nipples were a dusky rose color. The sight of them, with his chest heaving, made Peter want to lick them. In fact, he wouldn't mind licking Edmund all over...he had done that with women, but the sight before him made him long for sex in a way he hadn't in a long while. Sex had been a way of venting frustration, not a joy; but this, this made him sure that he wanted to experience its joy.

Edmund had abandoned all signs of scrawniness or unhealthy pallor; now his torso was hardened from sword practice. From what Peter was seeing, he could tell Edmund had voracious appetite. He himself was never this loud when he was playing with himself. Peter wondered what Edmund's roommates at school thought, because he had a feeling Edmund was a screamer...the thought made him almost make a sound himself, and he clenched his teeth so hard it hurt.

When the movement beneath the sheets changed again, faster, a whimper came from Edmund's mouth, begging. Peter's jaw dropped open, and then he closed it, feeling saliva gather over his tongue. His shoulders were strained with tension now, and he felt like all of his blood was going south. He could feel his body heating up from what he was watching, and the sudden, painful throb below his belt confirmed that he was very aroused. He didn't dare let go of the tray even with one hand, for fear of dropping it.

His brother swore, and then he sat up a little, licking his lips. Now his head hung low, and his hand moved faster, and then with a moan it was obvious he was coming, and Peter felt his throat tighten up so much he thought he would choke, as he imagined his brother's body beneath the sheets. The heat, the stream from that hard length, the tightening thigh muscles...Peter gripped the tray harder, and that was when the tea cup slid loudly across it. He saved it from falling with a finger, his brain almost too numb to do it but too embarrassed, suddenly, to do anything else.

He felt his ears redden and his face, too, as Edmund turned to look at him. The darker boy swore again and shuffled under his blankets. Then he sat up straight, exclaiming shakily, "What're you doing in here?"

_XOXOXOOOXOXOXOXOXXOOXOXXOXOXO  
><em>

_XOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO_

_Heh. I'm nervous. So tell me, please, what do you think so far?_


	2. Chapter 2

_I would like to confirm that, yes, this is my fanfic. I am lordoberon on AFF, and I state so in my biography on this site. I am re-posting newer fanfics of mine here. I am also posting totally new fics, such as "The Game Beneath the Lake". Please enjoy!_

**NOT MY CUP OF TEA**

**by The Ultimate Otaku**

_CHAPTER TWO_

_XOXOOXOOXOXOXOXOXOOX_

_Peter's POV_

_OXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOOX  
><em>

Peter resolved not to be weak. But he would not yell, either. He took a deep breath and tried to grasp the rational, calm Peter. But that Peter had walked out, it seemed, in the face of his burgeoning lust. He moved the tray a little lower, because it was his only way of hiding his erection. He forced himself to lift his head and look at Edmund.

His brother was kneeling on the bed, his hands clenching the bed sheets at his sides. Edmund's face was flushed as brightly as Peter had ever seen it, but instead of wearing a scowl as Peter had expected, he simply looked like a thief who'd been caught. His hazel eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly open, making Peter want to run his tongue over those full lips...Edmund's hair was an absolute mess, ends sticking out, and a few strands were plastered to his neck and cheek in sweat, which Peter found very attractive. His brother's nipples were still hard, and the muscles in his neck stood out in tension, again making Peter want to use his mouth on his brother's body...

Edmund had a line of sweat down his chest, which went straight down into his trousers. He had pulled them up messily, for they were lopsided, revealing one bony hip. The zipper was open...Peter swallowed. Beneath them Peter could see his underwear, which was white and so sweaty that he could see the dark of Edmund's pubic hair. Edmund had tucked himself back in neatly, but the trousers were already slipping, because he had forgotten his belt. It lay on the floor in the corner of the room. Peter decided he would rather not tell Edmund where it was.

"I came...I came to give you some tea," Peter heard himself say breathlessly. He took a deep breath, and this time sounded much more like himself. "Sorry for the interruption. Do you, um...would...would you like some?"

He didn't think he had ever lost his composure so thoroughly ever in his life. Little did Edmund know just how completely his display had affected Peter, for although he could see Peter's flushed face and hear the stress in his voice, he couldn't tell that Peter was aching in arousal, or see that Peter's trousers were tented and it wouldn't go away.

"Um, uh, s-sure," Edmund stammered. Peter watched him shove his hair back from his neck and face, and try to create some order in his clothes and hair. The hair he managed to neaten, but he looked around the room at a loss to find his belt.

Peter was so hot and bothered, that he felt sure Edmund would be able to feel his heat if he handed him the tea cup. He walked to the bed and thrust the tray forward a little and stood there. Edmund lifted the cup with shaky fingers, and gulped it down. As soon as the cup was gone, Peter lowered the tray in his hands to work as a sort of shield hiding his arousal. He forced himself to look at the mirror on the wall behind Edmund. In the mirror, his reflection had tidy fair hair and a flushed face, and he couldn't stop biting the inside of his cheek.

"Mmm," Edmund said simply, in response to the tea, and he tossed the teacup casually back on the bed behind him. It rolled and then hit the footboard with a resounding 'tink.' Peter smiled a little to himself as Edmund flung himself back onto his bed. Edmund would always pretend to be alright, while hiding all his jumble of nerves inside. Peter wondered how far he was from being angry. He supposed Edmund might not be, after such a good wank...

He bit the inside of his cheek again, telling himself, _stop that_! He wasn't sure if he meant the cheek biting or the way his mind wanted to dwell on Edmund's gorgeous half clothed body lying in front of him...

Before Peter could start turning away and attempt to leave the room with some dignity remaining for them both, Edmund sat up and, taking him all in, asked, "Why are you holding the tray like that?"

Peter looked down at the tray, and then at Edmund. "Why I am holding the tray like this? Why not?"

He wished he wasn't so close to Edmund. Then he could look around his brother's messy room and latch onto something to talk about, or complain about...but that would only create another argument. Damn it!

"Well, it's a little...strange..." Edmund fingered the lower edge of the tray, and Peter felt his cock jump in response. Shit.

_Strange. _He knew Edmund had chosen that word on purpose. Gullible as Edmund may have been as a boy, especially in Narnia, he had become quite clever. He was wily with his words now. "Strange" was what Peter had called Edmund's ex-lover, Tom.

Peter would not rise to Edmund's goading. He said simply, "You're in an odd mood, Ed."

That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. He didn't want another argument, because then he would throw the tray in anger and Edmund would see how hard he was for him. Fuck. Peter knew he was supposed to be an example for Edmund, but it was hard to be an example for self control when the person you were trying to be an example for was very good at making you lose it. Edmund knew Peter prided himself in being contained, so he was always trying to put Peter off his guard.

This was such a moment. Perhaps the defining moment of all such frustrating, teetering moments...

To Peter's surprise, Edmund didn't respond to being called "odd." Instead, he stood up, which forced Peter to take a step back. Edmund began to march forward, straight towards Peter, and like a deer cornered by a mountain lion Peter stepped back, back, until his spine hit Edmund's desk chair painfully.

"Edmund, what are you doing?" Peter was losing it. His voice had a note of anger in it, he couldn't help it. He wished Edmund would go pee or something so he could have a moment's space without him and lose the erection. Somehow it was still going; it liked this.

Edmund was forceful, and Peter, knowing this and knowing it would not change, had used this fact in his sexual fantasies to make Edmund just as insistent as he was being now. (Except his insistence in Peter's fantasies involved him grinding over Peter against the kitchen cupboards, or wrenching Peter out of the bath to give Peter head with that saucy tongue).

Edmund laughed. "I'm just teasing you, Peter. Don't you like to be teased? Everyone likes a little teasing sometimes...plus...I think you're hiding something."

He grinned, those bright eyes positively glowing with triumph, and Peter knew with a sudden drop in his stomach that Edmund knew what Peter was hiding; he was just drawing this out. Edmund wasn't an idiot; what else would Peter be hiding?

"Why would I be hiding something? What on earth would I be hiding?" Peter hissed.

Edmund was still grinning that infuriating grin. He slid one foot in next to Peter's, which effectively distracted him, and then to Peter's chagrin his brother had grabbed the tray and wrenched it out of Peter's hands. He then threw it to the floor.

He looked down at the tent in Peter's trousers, and for a moment he was silent. Peter felt angry and at the same time he felt like laughing because this was so awkward. Why the hell was Edmund staring at it like that? Probably to make him uncomfortable. He tried to ease out of the corner Edmund had put him in, but Edmund's arm shot out and blocked Peter's only exit.

"So." Edmund spoke slowly. "You heard me. And you liked it. And it made you think of things you would like to do..."

Those hazel eyes were pinioning Peter to his place, and he could not speak or move. He could only stare into those beautiful eyes and hope for mercy. He was feeling humiliated and inferior. Edmund had "got him" in a way he never had before.

Did Peter want to leave, or did he want to be right here, so close to Edmund? His cock liked it...but his brain was sending alarms, because if Edmund knew Peter wanted _him_, wouldn't he find it horrible? Edmund might like boys and their bodies, but Peter was not any boy, Peter was his brother. It was wrong, and Peter knew it, and Edmund would, too.

Edmund had moved now so that he had his arms on either side of Peter's head, forcing Peter to stare at Edmund's face, body, or down at his own still-standing erection. He couldn't move a muscle, or bat an eyelid, without Edmund noticing. There was no way out.

But when Edmund smirked and said in his low, delicious sexy voice, "You like boys," smugly and finally, Peter protested. His wounded ego flamed up, ignoring the way his lust enjoyed that sexy smirk and Edmund's low laughter. He found himself roaring at the top of his lungs, "I DO NOT LIKE BOYS!"

Edmund rolled his eyes, and suddenly his hand had landed on Peter's chest. Peter watched it as it travelled slowly down, down, until terrifyingly and suddenly Edmund's hand was over the tent in his trousers. Peter thought he might stop breathing. Those delicate fingertips traced the shape of his erection, finally pausing to rest between his legs, as if Edmund might begin to caress his cock or go for his ass.

"If that's so," Edmund licked his lips, and began to talk faster, "Then what is this?" He pressed his thumb over Peter's cock, and Peter shut his mouth to not let any sound escape, but Edmund must have heard the moan caught in his throat. He didn't smile and make fun, though. He looked at Peter seriously.

"Edmund." Peter forced his voice to be stern and hard. "This is not appropriate. Move your hand."

His brother licked his lips again, and instead pressed his palm tight against Peter's cock, forcing a strangled moan out of Peter.

"Edmund," Peter said breathlessly. "Stop."

Edmund wasn't looking at him anymore; his eyes were down on what his hand was doing, as he teasingly stroked up Peter's length with just the tips of his fingers.

"Stop what?" Edmund's voice was husky.

"Ed." Peter's voice shook, and he knew he had to take the humble position. "Please." His voice came out a whisper.

Edmund was circling the head of Peter's cock with his thumb now, and Peter almost lost his footing, but not quite. He stood on shaky legs.

"Please what?" Edmund was so quiet that Peter almost had to read his lips.

Peter opened his mouth, but he was out of words and he was out of sense. His brain couldn't function anymore, with Edmund's voice so good and his thumb roving over Peter's cock as it was. It was inching down his length, and it was so agonizing that Peter simply closed his eyes, and let a groan come from his mouth. He groaned again, against his own volition, as Edmund put all his fingers into play and massaged the tightening balls.

Then suddenly Edmund's silky voice was a hot whisper beside Peter's ear, and he murmured low and breathy, "You aren't doing a very good job at hiding it, you know..." His tone was slightly accusing, but also full of desire. Peter didn't bother to make sense of that desire he sensed in Edmund's tone, until his brother's mouth was pressed against his.

He opened his mouth, trying to open his brain, too, and protest, what are you doing? But Edmund only used this to his advantage, successfully slipping his tongue into Peter's mouth. At the same time, his fingers were frisking Peter's hungry cock to its great delight, brushing up and down, stroking. When Edmund wrapped his fingers around it and pressed his entire body against Peter, while his tongue dallied and teased Peter's tongue, the older boy shuddered, moaning, and finally let his true colors show. He wrapped his fingers around Edmund's arms and pulled his hands up, up. Then, he let his fingers bury themselves in Edmund's dark, thick hair as he had so long wanted to do.

He knew he was gone; he was grinding his cock against Edmund's hand, which was trapped somewhere between them, and then as Edmund was licking his neck and biting really hard so hard fuck it was good, Edmund's fingers scrabbled to let Peter's cock get release. Finally he was free, and he ground himself against his younger brother with no sense left in him, only lust, and his mouth latched onto Edmund's ear. Then with his arms around his brother and Edmund's hands on his shoulders, his come shot hard and fast to splatter all over Edmund's stomach.

It felt so good, and he basked in the heat of Edmund's body against him, trying to catch his breath back. He still felt heated, but now it was a good, satisfied heat. Edmund felt good against him.

A moment later, Peter realized what he had done. Oh no, oh no…he had gone and let himself go, and let his body reveal how much he wanted Edmund's touch. He shut his eyes in horror and disbelief. He had come all over Edmund! No matter how good all that teasing and biting and grinding had been, now he was back in reality.

He licked his lips, and forced himself to look at Edmund.

_XOXXOOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXXOOX_

_Edmund's POV_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO_

Edmund was staring down at Peter's stockinged feet with his eyes wide open, breathing hard. He couldn't believe what had just happened. What was going on? He'd had a bad beginning to the day, with more of Peter avoiding him, and then he had lost himself in thoughts of Peter's body in a really good wank, and then suddenly his brother was standing before him with a fucking cup of tea, staring! Jesus!

He had taken advantage of Peter's embarrassment to tease him mercilessly, trying to hide his own severe embarrassment and get back at Peter for walking in on him like that. He hadn't expected that Peter would…would…like what he'd seen? He hadn't ever seen any sign of Peter liking boys in the long, agonizing years he'd had a thing for his brother, and to have it turn up so suddenly shook him to his core.

It had been a long time of ogling boys at school, until Edmund had realized, long ago, that Peter was his ideal. Peter was what he wanted. It wasn't blonde hair, it wasn't someone tall and confident and strong, it wasn't a piercing blue gaze. It was all of that, in Peter. He wanted to stroke Peter's perfect hair, he wanted to wrestle with Peter, and he wanted Peter's eyes looking at him. It wasn't just Peter's approval, Peter's hand teaching him how to deal with the car, Peter's arm guiding his in a sword stroke, or Peter's cry of "Well done!" that he wanted. He wanted to touch Peter, too, more than he'd ever wanted to touch any of the number of boys that, well, seemed to like his touching.

But he'd known that Peter, being noble, good, magnificent Peter, would never approve of or respond to him in that way. So he'd kept it inside, and listened more to his anger towards Peter. When Tom came along, he'd been like Peter, but minus the overbearing brother part. He was kind, funny, and his eyes clearly enjoyed looking at Edmund. Edmund wished Peter would look at him like that, but knowing Peter wouldn't, well, why not go for Tom? Tom, Edmund had convinced himself, was what he really wanted and deserved: he looked like Peter, but he treated Edmund so much better. He was perfect.

But once it was all over with Tom, for the days that Peter avoided him like he was a plague infestation…his thoughts had returned, unerringly, frustratingly, to Peter. His ire had grown, at how quickly his fantasies and fixation had returned to Peter. But how could it not?

Peter was right there…his long body sprawled on the couch, his delicious mouth not pursed in irritation towards Edmund, but sucking the top of his pen in thought…His toned torso stretched to get books from the top shelf for Lucy, and muscled arms carried in items for mum…Yesterday Edmund witnessed that fine ass rippling, and a great purring sound come out of Peter, as he stretched like a lion after hours of being stuck at his desk.

All of this enticement had been gone for the past few months, and now, unmistakably, so horrible and good it made Edmund's stomach turn, it was back, thumping in his heart and making his cock so hard he just hadn't been able to stand it anymore. Fine, he'd said. He would have to feed his hunger with his own hands.

(It had been surprisingly good, considering that he hadn't had to depend on his hands for a while, with Tom around. Having Peter angry with him almost seemed to fuel his lust; he liked getting Peter riled up).

Edmund wondered, what part of watching him had Peter liked? Was it the sounds? Was it the idea of touching another boy? Was there someone Peter was attached to? Or was it Edmund himself? Peter had let Edmund kiss him…and had responded, violently and with more fervor than Edmund had seen him give anything in England except a screaming argument (which, incidentally, was always with Edmund).

Edmund listened to his heart pound in his ears and hoped that Peter hadn't noticed that he was sporting a hard-on. He was confused and dazed, and he still had Peter's sounds in his ears and that tea and toast flavor of Peter in his mouth and he wanted, oh he wanted to kiss him again…

Teasing Peter had been far too enjoyable. He'd had a feeling Peter was hiding arousal, because he knew nothing else but anger, excitement or cold to make Peter that flushed in the face. Plus, Peter with his head hung low and that tray in front of him was clearly not angry Peter.

Once he'd discovered the source of Peter's agitation, he hadn't been able to hold himself back. His eyes had been fixed on that hard heat of his brother's, and he'd enjoyed touching it, even through a pair of trousers. Unthinkingly he had let himself drown in his lust, teasing Peter only half on his mind as he had enjoyed fondling Peter's trouser tent. It was delightful to watch all of Peter's self-control and calm vanish…then thought had returned to Edmund in the form of surprise, as Peter grinded with so much force against him, deliciously…

And Peter had emptied himself, loud and thrumming as he grinded his body against Edmund. Edmund knew he had bitten Peter in his enthusiasm – he'd really lost it! – and had no idea what to say or do now. He knew he had Peter's come on his stomach, hot and wet, and if it were anyone else he would've been playing with it or washing it off by now…instead he just stood there, frozen.

He sensed Peter's gaze on him, but rather than look into those confusing blue eyes, he leaned down to the floor, and picked up the once innocuous tray. Peter had his trousers back on properly now, he noticed.

Edmund licked his lips, and wished he could wipe the sweat from his forehead without Peter looking at him. God, this was awkward. How was he going to hide his hard-on? He wished he knew if Peter's erection and hunger had been for him, or if he'd just given Peter ideas (and a little help).

The thought that it might have been for him had his heart pounding. He lifted his head a little as Peter said quietly, "Edmund? Um, let me…let me get that."

He handed the tray to Peter wordlessly, and then as soon as Peter had walked past to collect the teacup, too, he sprinted to the bathroom. There, he collapsed into the tub, and turned the tap on. Cold, cold water flooded out, but he was still hard, because Peter had sounded and looked so good, and the water hadn't reached up to his cock yet. So with the sound of the water drowning him out, he wrapped his hand around himself for the second time that day, with Peter, only Peter, on his mind…

When he came, it was so good that he almost wanted to do it again. But imagining it wasn't as good as having Peter physically against him. Grumbling, Edmund got out of the tub, switched the water to hot, and determined to think of nothing while he cleaned up.

The sound of the women returning home came when he had just finished his bath. He had toweled his hair dry and was staring at himself in the mirror, wondering again what had made Peter so deliciously hard. He quickly wrapped a towel around himself and studied the deep cut on his lip, as the broken door opened, revealing Susan. That door lock had to be fixed soon, he told himself.

"Oh, sorry." She paused, watching as he squeezed his lip to look at the cut closer. "Are you feeling any less moody?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. _Thanks for the sympathy, sister._ "Maybe," he said, and then turned to grin wickedly at her. "You'll just have to wait and see."

She sighed, and shut the door behind her. He heard her voice float back to him from down the hall, "Come to dinner, mum expects us all to be on time. She can't make it today, though…"

"Shit." Edmund knew he'd said that out loud. No mum meant more tension between him and Peter. What was he going to do? He should stop by and see mum, and then go out. He'd eat later. That would save tons of tension. Then he wouldn't risk getting a fucking hard-on during dinner, with Peter's eyes on him and his sisters sitting right there. He wished his body would learn to control itself. But that was his problem. He had no control. Peter was the control master. Maybe not anymore, though…Edmund grinned at the thought.

He dressed quickly and dodged around Lucy's concerned questioning, and stormed past Peter's room to the room at the end, where his mother slept.

The door was open a crack, and he nudged it open with his toe. "Mum?"

She lay on her bed, yawning widely, and then patted the mattress when she saw him. "Oh, Ed. That trip exhausted me; I'm just about to sleep. How are you?"

He went around the foot of the bed and sat down next to her. Sneaking a glance at her, he saw that she had her night dress on already, and her long dark hair was spilled across her shoulders. Dark circles sat under her eyes, and he felt a glimmer of grim camaraderie, that she had them, too. Then he chastised himself for being so cruel to his own mother, and grabbing her hand, he held it to his chest. He traced the lines on it, the wrinkles that told of her overly stressed state as much as her grey hairs did, and murmured, "I've been thinking too much mum, as usual. You know how I get. But Peter…" he gulped, and lied firmly, "Peter's been keeping me in line, and Lu and Su know how to cheer me up."

His mother turned to look him in the eye, and with her other hand she stroked his cheek. "My dear Eddy," she said softly, laughing. "You're always the eye of the storm. Yes, but we need that. Otherwise life wouldn't be the same. Just keep going. Remember, if the problem is big…just talk to him."

Edmund growled low in his throat. _Him_. His mother always saw what was really going on! Well, she wasn't often well enough to be around, but even so she'd known it was another argument between he and Peter. She didn't know that this one was different from the other arguments, though…but what she didn't know, he thought, wouldn't hurt her.

He nodded assent, and she smiled at his scowl, until he was forced to smile back. Then she proffered her cheek and said, "Kiss me good night, Eddy." His mum was the only one he could ever stand calling him that.

Smiling, Edmund leaned in and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. It was a rather reversed role moment, and he felt his stomach flip uncomfortably at the thought. What would he do if his mother weren't around to calm him down when his mind was on Peter? He shifted off the bed so she could put her legs up, and turned the lamp off and closed the door behind him.

Then he stood there, leaning back against the hard wood, thinking. He was relieved that Peter wasn't angry with him anymore, actually. Of course, he would never admit that (except perhaps to Lucy). Sometimes it seemed like Peter was angry with him all the time and Edmund got tired of being angry back. The cup of tea, troublesome as it had turned out, had been a sign that Peter wasn't as angry anymore (his confused feelings about whether he liked boys or not probably helped; and, of course, sweet meddling Lucy).

Edmund grumbled in response to his growling tummy, and said, "Give it a rest." He ran down the hall, grabbed his coat and gloves from his bedroom floor, and was out in the snow before he could be caught. He needed to think.

The snow felt good. Edmund was a winter person. He liked the flurrying snow, the chill that made him feel awake and alert, the beauty as everything was covered in layers of white powder. The crunch of snow beneath his boots was very satisfying, and the quiet and darkness.

For a while he basked in the snow. He walked beneath the trees and let snow drop on his tongue. He whistled to himself, and scraped shapes in the snow with the heel of his boot. Then he walked down the muddied driveway and down the lane to check the mail. By the time he was back from that he thought his balls were probably so blue even having Peter touch him (if only that could happen) wouldn't unfreeze him.

He stared at the house, biting his lip and tasting the salty blood in his mouth. He wanted and did not want to see Peter. He wanted and did not want to know, what was going on in Peter's mind right now. He wished almost that the weird happenings of today hadn't happened, so that his brain would shut up. Then he could have simple anger and tears at Tom again. But at the same time, he enjoyed remembering teasing Peter – Peter was great fun to tease, especially when he was feeling too guilty to yell – and the surprising reactions Peter had had…

It was damn cold out, but the glow of lights from in the house was not inviting. Edmund looked around and saw the car, its top buried now by a layer of snow. It looked warm and lonely. A good place for a nap, after which maybe he would be able to make sense of things…and during which he could not think of how he was even hungrier now (his stomach and his cock; hell, couldn't his body give him a break?).

The car smelled like leather and it was also freezing, but Edmund turned the engine on when he thought he saw his siblings engrossed in talk (their three heads were bent closer together at one point across the dinner table). Then, he switched the heat on. He tossed his coat, hat, and gloves in the back seat. With his back against the driver door and one elbow on the steering wheel, he sank into sleep.

In his sleep, he dreamt that he and Peter were floating in the ocean by Cair Paravel, except the ocean was hot and full of bubbles. They were yelling at each other, angry, and then suddenly they were kissing, and Edmund could tell that they were both enjoying it. They were enjoying each other.

Then in the dream, Aslan appeared, and Edmund asked him a question; he couldn't hear it, but subconsciously he understood that the question was about him and Peter. In his dream, Aslan said, "There is nothing wrong with love."

Then, Peter was trying to get his attention, and Edmund kept turning away. So Peter grabbed a hot poker, and pushed it into Edmund's elbow…"OUCH!"

Edmund woke with a start, and yanked his elbow away from the heat coming out by the steering wheel. The heat was on high, right next to his elbow, and when he looked the skin there was bright pink.

He was leaning forward to turn the heat down, when he heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow, moving towards him. He looked up just in time to see Peter's torso framed in the window, and then the car door opened, and his brother ducked down into the car.

Edmund sat back, scooting his legs up so that his knees were against his chest, making space for Peter. The blonde had shut the door behind him, and shook snow out of his hair. Again Edmund was struck by how like an angel Peter looked. His hair was still bright, even in the dim lighting they got from the distant house, and Edmund could see little feathers of snow in his hair. He had come outside without coat or hat, and he shivered now. Edmund shifted, moving his legs down in the proper pose like he would if he were about to drive, and that allowed room for Peter to scoot closer to the heater vents.

Edmund tried not to think of how pink Peter's lips and cheeks looked straight in from the cold, and focused on not biting his lips in nervousness. What did Peter want? All the anger had been shot out of him sometime earlier in the snow. Instead he simply felt anxious.

When Peter saw he wasn't going to say anything, he turned toward Edmund and said, "I…I heard you were out here, from Susan, and so…I…decided to come talk to you."

_Thoughts? Honestly the part where Edmund corners Peter is my favorite. That is the part that popped into my head first._ _More soon!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for the reviews, all. =) Here is more! _

**NOT MY CUP OF TEA**

**by The Ultimate Otaku**

CHAPTER TWO

_XOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXO_

_Edmund's POV_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXXOO_

_When Peter saw he wasn't going to say anything, he turned toward Edmund and said, "I…I heard you were out here, from Susan, and so…I…decided to come talk to you."_

Edmund kept his silence. Peter was probably thinking that he was upset because of Peter walking in on him, or the larger argument of his having been called strange and gross. Somewhere in him he was angry about being called strange and gross, especially when Peter seemed to have similar desires, but…Peter's own outward show of desire, for him or for their own gender, had flabbergasted him so thoroughly that he had no more room for anger. So he sat, waiting patiently, and forced himself to keep looking at Peter.

It wasn't hard to look at Peter, when he didn't know Edmund was watching…but after having kissed Peter hungrily earlier today, it was different. Now, Peter had seen what Edmund had always hid away in himself. He felt vulnerable, and he wished he could be angry and yell at Peter, but he was honestly too nervous (and a little scared) to say or do anything. He was practically holding his breath as he listened very closely to Peter's every word.

"I…I realized that I, I owe you an apology." Peter's face screwed up in consternation, and then he sighed. His eyelashes were like slivers of golden snow on his smooth face, as he looked somewhere in the vicinity of Edmund's knees. Edmund didn't think he'd ever seen Peter so abashed in front of him, and he stared, partly in shock, partly entranced, and still too nervous to feel triumphant about it.

"I've been an absolute git!" Peter burst out suddenly, as if saying things a little louder would help him get it out. He started to speak faster, too.

"I've been starved for Narnia so long that I, I did feel like I was caught – caught between being Peter the King or Peter the schoolboy. You're right, Ed. I am mixed up, and it's not right of me to take out my frustration by trying to…to…lord it over you. You're grown, we're all growing, and you all had your personal strengths absolutely shining in Narnia, and…"

Edmund felt a smile starting on his face, but stopped it. Peter really was going on, and it was rare to see him like this. Letting his smile show a little, to show he wasn't angry, he whispered, "Go on."

Peter's blue eyes flashed to his for a moment, and he looked as nervous as Edmund felt. Then he said, "Well, my point is, I feel bad for treating you as I have, and I'd like to ask you to forgive me, and…and as a king, who keeps his promise, I promise you I'll try to be better."

Now Edmund was so surprised, he was sure his mouth had formed an 'o.' He knew it was open. He shut it, slowly, and watched Peter rub his hands together in front of the heat vent for a moment. Then he blurted, "Th-thanks."

As Peter's gaze shot all around the car, as if unable to look at Edmund at all, Edmund stared at him. He wondered, what was coming next? Had Peter been thinking all of this since Edmund had run out of the room with Peter's come still hot on him? How much of this was Lucy talking, and how much was Peter?

But he saw in those crystal clear shining eyes as he looked at Peter intently, that it was all real, not staged or rehearsed. Peter really meant it. Edmund took a deep breath, stunned.

Peter grabbed hold of the car seat behind them, his fingers right next to Edmund's shoulder.

"I've one more thing, Ed, and then I'll, I'll let you go. You can go eat without worrying about me being around. I don't want you to be unhappy, and I want you to know that I don't think you're sick."

Peter licked his lips, and Edmund found the gesture distracting. Something was sloughing off of him the more he listened to Peter, and he realized that it was depression and dissatisfaction. He stared at Peter, relishing the feeling.

Peter was showing, finally, achingly, amazingly, how much he cared. It felt so good, Edmund almost laughed aloud. But he kept quiet, and let Peter speak.

"If I thought you were sick, I'd be…I'd be a hypocrite." Peter stopped then, and seemed to struggle for words.

Edmund shifted a little closer to his brother, feeling very pleased at the apology and the revelation. He asked, "Why?"

Peter's words came out a whisper that he directed to Edmund with closed eyes. It was so quiet around them that Edmund heard him very clearly: "Because…I want you."

Immediately Edmund felt uncomfortable, and he wasn't sure if this was good or bad. His heart pumped faster, and he sat there, staring at Peter, who kept his eyes closed. The Magnificent King seemed, perhaps, afraid…afraid of Edmund, as he hadn't been of Jadis, as he hadn't been of the Great Lion, as he hadn't been so many times (or at least, he hid it well), when Edmund had felt like a quailing ball of fear. He sat here before Edmund, his fair skin glowing in a flush, his blonde head bowed, his lips pursed. And Edmund knew, with his heart stuck somewhere in his throat, that he'd been right.

Peter had been hiding his desire for Edmund all along.

He'd hid it, maybe not for as long as Edmund, but for some time. It wasn't something Edmund had noticed, until today. He hadn't dared to hope. But in that kiss, and the way Peter had grinded against him, had been all the explanation and answer that Peter was so closed-mouth about now. Edmund had suspected it, and even whispered in Peter's ear as if he knew exactly what Peter was hiding, when in fact it was only a suspicion; he'd been caught between thinking Peter had only been hiding a longing for boys, and hoping that Peter had been hiding a longing for _him._

Now, Edmund cleared his throat, and then said, with his brain half working as it was still in shock, "You…you want me?"

Peter opened his eyes, and gave one nod of finality. "Yes."

Staring at his brother, Edmund eased his hand up, up the back of the seat to grasp at Peter's cold fingers. At the same time he twisted to fully face Peter, so one leg was curled under him on the seat and the other hung off the edge. He looked at Peter, and Peter looked back.

Then Edmund couldn't stop himself. With his free hand, he grabbed the front of his brother's shirt and yanked him forward into a devouring kiss. He didn't even bother with modesty, and went straight for tongues.

Before he knew it, he had clambered wholly onto the seat, and was pushing Peter back slowly to lie back even as he slid on top of him. He moaned into his brother's mouth. When they stopped for breath, he murmured, "I hope this is what you meant…"

Peter's response was to pull Edmund more against him, and bury his fingers in Edmund's hair.

Their breathing was hot and ragged even in the heat of the car, which Edmund adjusted with a wayward finger. He knew he was coming on way too strong but he was alert and alive with happiness, sudden rushing happiness. His tongue was a wild thing in Peter's mouth, hungry, so hungry. To his delight Peter responded the same, and he drove his entire body tight against Edmund as he kissed him, making Edmund moan.

He drew back and kissed Peter's cheeks, too, and his forehead, making them both laugh. Then, when Peter threw his head back with a sort of contented sigh, Edmund took advantage of the move and started to kiss down Peter's throat, light and slow. Immediately he noticed the change in his brother, as Peter's breathing changed, and his hand in Edmund's hair clutched tightly. He could taste Peter's sweat on his tongue, and he could feel Peter's heartbeat beneath his mouth; it was as if he had swallowed it. He started to use his tongue more, licking, and his path ended with a sucking kiss to the bite he'd given Peter on his shoulder earlier.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered, tracing the teeth marks with a fingertip.

From this angle, Peter's eyes were pieces of star tucked beneath the sun horizon of his lashes. "Do it all you want, Ed."

Permission granted (though he would have done it anyway), Edmund feathered bites down. When he reached the neck of Peter's shirt, he yanked the hem from its tuck inside Peter's trousers, and pushed his hands up beneath it. At his touch, Peter shivered, and Edmund turned the heater setting back up.

"Why didn't you bring a coat? That's not like you," Edmund remarked. His fingers grasped the shirt from inside and tore. Buttons scattered all over, and the sound of the cloth ripping filled the car. When Peter opened his mouth to protest or answer, Edmund kissed him again. He couldn't get enough.

The kiss became fiercer, and they both moved closer together, so that Edmund's hands were now trapped between them. He shifted his legs, straddling Peter at the waist. Suddenly Peter's icy cold fingers were touching his back. Edmund made a sound in protest.

"Jesus you're cold – here -" He grabbed Peter's hands from behind him and tucked them in his armpits, grinning.

Peter grinned back, and murmured, "I thought you were going to lick them with your tongue. You seem to use that a lot."

Edmund waggled it at his brother, and then he pushed the torn shirt away from Peter, baring Peter's torso. He said, "Yes, but as you know from earlier…I'm just as good with my hands."

This resulted in Peter's face getting more flushed than before, a look which Edmund enjoyed creating. His gaze dropped down, lower, to Peter's now bare torso. He studied with his fingers the smooth skin and defined muscles, the golden hairs beneath his brother's navel (that got a hitched breath), and couldn't stop looking. He had seen Peter without a shirt on countless times before, but having him beneath him with that curiosity and pleasure in his eyes was a different, better thing altogether.

His fingers circled around Peter's nipples, and his mouth and tongue soon followed. The result was that Peter's hands moved to clench the hair at the nape of Edmund's neck. A delicious sound came from his mouth and suffused all of Edmund with the heat of desire. God, Peter sounded good.

Edmund pushed himself against his brother more, and decided to use his teeth just a little, gently. Peter's hands came to his shirt hem again, and this time they pulled. Amused but secretly quite excited at Peter's eagerness, Edmund shrugged out of the shirt. When his head was clear, his smile and his breath disappeared to see the lust in Peter's eyes, as Peter took him in.

"You looked so good today," Peter whispered. He reached out with a hand, and then sitting up, his tongue mimicked what Edmund's tongue had been doing to him. At the sensation of that heat, with his brother's fair head of hair tickling against him, Edmund groaned. This was what he had wanted for so long – Peter's desire for him. It had been his secret wish for so long, and the one he'd thought – beyond wanting Peter's approval or anything else – that he was least likely to get. As Peter shifted against him, and his smooth, long-fingered hands touched him, Edmund wondered if it could get any better.

In the back of his mind, of course, he knew it could. They hadn't gotten below the belt yet!

"I want, to…to touch you, and…use my tongue on you, and…fulfill you, as you were trying so hard to fulfill yourself," Peter murmured against him. His hands had gone up and down Edmund's back, and were now on his front again. Edmund stared at the top of Peter's head, mouth open, because of what Peter had just said. When his older brother's fingers drifted with a whisper of sound over his belt, he heard a sound, something like a whimper, come from his throat.

Then he shut his eyes, because Peter's hands had moved down his thighs, and to feel them there was…unbelievable. He felt himself trembling all over and knew that if it had been anyone else but Peter, it would only be lust; but he felt emotion churning in him too, and he swallowed hard to hold it back, and kept his eyes shut tight. He'd been in physical situations like this with Tom and others before, but then, he had fought to keep Peter out of his mind; now, Peter was here, and his mind was full of Peter, and there was no reason to stop it or hold anything back.

He placed his hands over Peter's, and pressed down hard, to try and show him something of what he was feeling. When Peter's hands moved back up, and stopped over his hips, Edmund buried his nose in his brother's neck and gasped, "Peter…" He swallowed, and forced himself to gain some strength in his voice. "I love you."

He was hard and he was crazy to make all the goodness possibly end with lobbing those three words and all the guilt and trouble they contained in, but he couldn't help it. He could never help himself from doing or saying anything, it seemed. He hoped this was not a case where he'd curse his own mouth later on.

Peter's hands moved up to cup Edmund's face and tilt his chin up. His bright blue eyes stared at Edmund. "I love you, too," he whispered. Then he smiled, saying, "I had a dream about this. About us telling each other about our love. We were in Narnia…"

His gaze became more faraway now, drifting to somewhere behind Edmund, out into the snow. "Aslan was there. I asked him some question, I don't remember what, and he answered, 'There is nothing wrong with love.' That was what made me come out here, really…I thought about what Aslan said, and realized, he's right! I love you, and if love and everything it means is okay, then this…" He gestured between them, blushing, "It's okay. I mean…if…if Aslan's alright with it, than I am too, you know?"

He looked at Edmund, whose mouth was agape, and his eyebrows furrowed. "What?

Edmund sat up straighter, and tried to pull himself together. He licked his lips, and said slowly, "Well, it's just um…I…I had that dream, too. Earlier. In the car. I was sleeping before you came out here, and…Aslan said the same thing to me."

They stared at each other, and then Peter laughed. "Aslan! All the way from Narnia…he always has the answers."

He smiled, eyes closed, as if he was thinking of Aslan and Narnia, and he looked so happy, and simultaneously so delicious with his shirt off, that Edmund fought between the urge to say more, to dwell on Narnia together as they once had, or to touch Peter more and take more clothes off of him. There wasn't much left.

He decided to wait, patiently, and when Peter opened his eyes and looked at him, he let Peter make the next move.

The blonde did not disappoint. His hands trailed down from Edmund's neck, and he was staring at Edmund, even as his fingers seemed to desire to memorize every inch of Edmund from his shoulders down to his navel. But when his hands rested again over Edmund's belt, he unfastened it. It slid through the loops with a whoosh, and fell to the floor with a clank. Edmund swallowed, hard, as his brother pulled the zipper down. He knew this was totally new for Peter, and somehow, it almost felt totally new for him, even though he'd done it before. He felt more breathless and excited than he had in forever. Peter wanted him, and Peter's hands…

Oh Jesus…Peter's hands, with their long fingers and soft palms, were easing his trousers down from his hips. Then cold soft fingertips touched Edmund's thighs, and those careful hands revealed Peter's desire, groping Edmund's buttocks before he shifted so the trousers could be abandoned altogether. Now Edmund was wearing only one layer of clothing.

At this point, Peter seemed so flabbergasted that Edmund almost wanted to laugh. Peter opened his mouth and said falteringly, so quiet Edmund could barely hear him, "Ed, I, um…I…" He pulled his hands back, to rest on his own thighs, and looked at such a loss.

Edmund knew Peter was nervous, and all of those things in Peter that told him this was wrong were fighting to get out. But what about what Aslan had said? Peter needed to shut up and listen to that. So Edmund leaned up, his body tantalizingly close to Peter (he hoped it wasn't the closest he'd ever get to Peter trouser-less), and pressed a finger against Peter's mouth.

He surprised himself as his voice came out a sort of growl. "If you stop now, I'm not going to forgive you. Ever. Especially after everything you said. And everything Aslan said."

He knew his lips were trembling, and he could get emotional, so he bit his lip, hard.

"You're right," Peter said, and he smiled. "I'm being an idiot." And he pushed Edmund back to his previous position, gently, and just looked at him a moment.

Peter was looking at Edmund with an embarrassed flush on his face, and he swallowed in nervousness, but there was a glint of passion Peter's eyes that Edmund hadn't seen in this context before. He'd seen it on the battlefield, and after Peter spoke with Aslan, and while Peter briefed him and others on a new plan…but now that light in Peter's eyes was just for him.

Edmund started biting his lip again when Peter's hands moved, shakily but steadily, up his thigh towards his crotch. Peter growled low, "Stop that," and then his mouth descended over Edmund's, tongue wild with passion, and his hands drifted finally over Edmund's arousal to the sound of their moans in the air.

Edmund couldn't believe that Peter was touching him like this. But then all rational thought disappeared, and his brother was kissing him, and licking him, and Peter's hands were still over his groin, rubbing harder and harder while Edmund whimpered. He could feel the passion in Peter rising, as Peter's kisses got sloppier and his breath became ragged.

Then Peter drew back, and although his hands were shaking, his eyes were fierce with that glint of passion in them as he carefully took off Edmund's last piece of clothing. And when Edmund was bare before his eyes, he seemed to lose his breath altogether. He looked and looked at Edmund, and Edmund found it extremely arousing.

Edmund licked his lips, resisting the urge to bite again, and his voice came out throaty as he said, "Like it?"

Peter looked at him, and his eyes were saturated with lust. His every movement was tense with it, and his face was burning. He looked a little silly so embarrassed, but somehow also appealing. His lips were wet, but he worked his throat to get saliva in before stammering, "Ed, I…y-you're beautiful."

Now it was Edmund's turn to blush, and he didn't know what to say. The need to say anything was taken from him, when Peter's fingertips edged delicately down through the dark tendrils of hair, tickled over his balls, and then ever so lightly trailed up Edmund's length. God it was agonizing. Edmund wanted more, and yet he enjoyed teasing and being teased, so he liked it all the same. Peter pressed a thumb against the head, playing with the slit, and Edmund bit back a swear word.

He heard a sound rumble from his throat, when Peter's hand fisted around his cock, and he drew his grip up and down. Peter was breathing loudly, and he kept staring at what he was doing, and occasionally these sounds would come out of him, like he couldn't hold it in anymore. Edmund watched the lust in those star bright eyes, and he also watched Peter's hand on him.

When Peter stopped, Edmund protested, saying, "Pete – "

But he quieted when Peter's strong hands put pressure on his thighs, and the tickle of the blonde's hair as Peter slid his mouth down Edmund front was somehow more exciting than anything else so far had been. When Peter's mouth reached Edmund's cock, he seemed to let go of all control as he had when he grinded against Edmund.

His mouth was all over Edmund. Fuck! He kissed it all over, and then he was licking, wild, sloppy, long licks, short licks to the head that left Edmund breathless and wanting, but then Peter's tongue had moved down, down to taste all of his length bit by bit. He slowed, seeming to want to torture Edmund as much as possible. Edmund knew he was making loud sounds and gripping his brother's hair so hard it probably hurt his scalp, but with Peter feathering light licks down his whole length it was impossible to do otherwise.

His brother licked over the balls, moaning loudly, and then he licked up the entire length in one long sweep. Edmund knew he was groaning Peter's name but he didn't care. He started to rock against that sweet, wet touch as Peter's tongue continued to taste every inch of him over and over. Edmund was so close to coming and he didn't want to blow it in Peter's face, so he murmured, "Peter…"

As if the sound of his name was a sign, Peter began to give Edmund's cock kisses again, wet, hard kisses that had Edmund's chest heaving and both moaning. Edmund was rocking against Peter harder now, and unable to stand it anymore he pulled Peter's hair, and then dug his fingernails unconsciously into Peter's shoulders. "Please, Peter!" he begged. "_Please_…"

He didn't say it for Peter to enjoy, with that ego that Peter always had even if he had humbled himself. He didn't say it to titillate. The words burst out of him unchecked, with no thought, and now Peter's lips were on the head of his cock, and Edmund was unable to hold himself back. He pushed his cock into Peter's mouth, hard, and a moaning sigh came from his mouth to finally be engulfed by that wet heat.

A few moments of adjustment, and then he was moving. He had forgotten Peter was new to this, but remembered, when Peter was a little slow to take his cock in again. Gritting his teeth and with the blonde's hair tight in his fists, Edmund murmured, "Pete…mmm…I'm sorry if I'm…impatient…"

He hissed as Peter's teeth nipped at his tender skin in response. That felt good. He eased himself out of Peter's mouth again, with only the head inside, and then thrust in slowly. How much longer could he bear to be slow?

Peter seemed to agree with his need for speed, now that he had gotten used to the feeling of Edmund's cock in his mouth. His tongue lashed around in an agonizing manner, and he placed his hands on Edmund's buttocks, pushing. Fuck that was good. His hands were warmer now, and he was pushing against Edmund so hard, urging him to get his cock deeper in. Edmund laughed through a groan of pleasure. He hadn't ever expected his brother would be so cock hungry. Who knew the High King of Narnia would enjoy a location lower than his younger brother so much? Edmund wondered what it would be like to have Peter's eager, amateur tongue on his ass.

It was too much now, when Peter's fingernails scraped over Edmund's buttocks and his thighs, while at the same time those perfect teeth in his perfect mouth skidded lightly at the tender underside of Edmund's cock. With something between a groan and a roar, Edmund was pounding his hot flesh into Peter's mouth, and they were both making noise.

Before he even had time to relish Peter's lustful gaze, or the sweet shape of his mouth over Edmund's cock, or the wet squelching sounds they made and the goodness inside Peter's mouth, it was all over. Peter pulled back instinctively, and Edmund came hard, and it dripped down from his belly to touch Peter's fingers, which rested on Edmund's bare thigh.

Edmund lay back against the car door with a sigh; his legs splayed out before him and tangled with Peter. The blonde swiped his fingers up Edmund's belly, taking in droplets of come on his fingertips, and then he sat back. Edmund watched, hazy with the orgasm he'd just had, and amused as Peter licked his fingertips, as if he were a little boy with a secret stash of sweets.

Peter smoothed his hair back – more like attempted to – with his free hand, and he looked at Edmund as he licked over his fingers. Edmund wondered what Peter was thinking. If he hadn't just fucked his brother's mouth so hard, he was sure the display of Peter tasting his come would arouse him. He felt pleasantly warm and satisfied, and it felt good to be naked. Naked in front of Peter…holy cats, this thought alone was amazing. He basked in the goodness of it all, one hand at his side, the other elbow-up on the steering wheel, and just watched Peter.

_XOXOXOXOXXOOXXOOXXOXOOXXO_

_Peter's POV_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXO_

Peter knew he would remember this night forever. Half of his mind was dizzy with disbelief, but his body was full with lust, and it felt better than it ever had before. The sex he'd had with women was nothing compared to sharing with Edmund. The lust he'd felt for them was a dim buzzing, and a frenzied, desperate, angry fulfillment, compared to the prickling of desire and the heat and satisfaction he got with Edmund.

The day had started to go by so fast. He didn't know what to think. Aslan had sent them both that dream, and now here they were, and Edmund was totally naked in front of him.

He had longed to see Edmund naked for so long, but it all had seemed so impossible…now, his brother was stretched out before him. He could see every inch of pale skin. The rose of Edmund's nipples was good but that pleased, sexy smirk of his was better. His hair was messed from Peter's hands having been in it earlier. He rubbed his feet against Peter's trousers a little, and he looked at Peter through half-closed bright eyes.

And his cock…Peter swallowed. He had totally lost control again, but it had been so damn _good. _He hadn't thought anything could be that good, especially not something that, up to now, had tortured him with conflicted feelings of love and desire versus guilt and shame. Aslan had opened the floodgates in both of them, it seemed, by telling them they should accept their own feelings, and thus, each other.

Ed was beautiful naked. His cock was big, and he had sounded so good as Peter had licked him. The nervousness that came up, like bile in the throat, had come into Peter when he first stripped his brother, and again when that hungry cock was forcing itself into his mouth. How was he supposed to do this, something he'd never done? He'd thought about it, of course, and then beat himself up for it in his mind, and shuddered to think of touching some other boy like that. But god he'd wanted Edmund's cock…been curious to see it…to taste it…Having it plunge into his mouth with no ado was, wow. Edmund was intense, very intense, and very impatient, in the context of desire.

Peter had enjoyed teasing his brother. It was sweet revenge. One of the most enjoyable parts had been hearing Edmund say, "Please, Peter" in that desperate tone of voice. God Edmund sounded good like that. He'd practically shouted.

But right now, Peter didn't want to be teased back. Why had he even held himself back this long? He'd gotten used to stopping himself from coming too fast, because when he'd had sex with women, they protested if he went too fast, and if he wanted to vent out any frustrations, it was better to draw it out. They rarely wanted to do it over and over – they hadn't any of the appetite or stamina Peter sensed in Edmund.

His cock was so hard. He could still taste Edmund's come in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to have Edmund treat him, too. To have Edmund's long, eager, playful tongue all over his throbbing length…

Peter moaned involuntarily, and brushed sweaty tendrils of hair back from his forehead. He knew he was sweaty – the car had gotten too hot – and Edmund was looking at him now, straight into his eyes.

He tried to swallow down his nerves, but his heart pounded in his chest, and he simply stared back at Edmund. It was Edmund's turn now. He was out of ideas. He'd had plenty of ideas back when this was impossible, back when fantasies were all he had…but now he was just too aroused. He knew what he wanted, but for once, he was nervous about going to get it. Only Edmund had this effect on him. Only Edmund could make him so thoroughly lose his composure, so that there weren't even any threads left.

__

_more soon!_


	4. Chapter 4

Glad you are liking it! Here's more, as promised:

**NOT MY CUP OF TEA**

**by The Ultimate Otaku**

_CHAPTER 4_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXXO_

_Peter's POV_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOX_

_Only Edmund had this effect on him. Only Edmund could make him so thoroughly lose his composure, so that there weren't even any threads left._

Edmund tilted his head to one side, giving Peter an amused, knowing smirk. Damn it, he always could read Peter easily. He was almost better at it than Lucy, but not quite. Lucy could read everyone.

Peter watched as Edmund's hands slid down his thighs, thoughtful, and then he sat up. A flush reddened and burned Peter's cheeks, as his younger brother scooted in between his legs. When Edmund's hands slid in to touch Peter's thighs through his trousers, spreading Peter's legs, Peter gasped at how close Edmund's hands were to his arousal.

Knowingly, Edmund let his hands linger there a moment. Then he leaned in against Peter, and holy fuck it was amazing to have his hot, sweaty body pressed right up against Peter. Peter could feel his brother's thighs against his own, and his naked cock hot through Peter's trousers seemed to make his own cock needier. They were chest to chest almost, and now Edmund tilted Peter's chin down to kiss him.

The kiss was long and slow. Edmund's tongue dallied in all the places it could, and he didn't thrust it or whirl it, simply he tasted Peter. It would have been sweet and loving, except for the throb of Peter's arousal against his brother's belly, and the way he wanted, suddenly, to grind against Edmund again. But he stopped himself, hoping that something better would come.

Peter pushed Edmund's tongue around in his mouth, forceful, needy, and at the same time, he let his hands trail down from Edmund's shoulders, down that bare, strong back. He, too, paused to tease, before groping Edmund's buttocks. Edmund had a good ass, firm but not without roundness, and Peter kneaded it. His brother pulled back from their kiss, and in the lustful look on his face, Peter could tell Edmund liked his touching. He looked almost drunk with desire. Maybe now he would be less teasing?

No chance. Edmund swirled his tongue around Peter's nipples, making Peter gasp, and his right hand inched with one pointing, aggravating finger, down Peter's body. When he reached the waist of Peter's trousers, he paused, and his finger crept down beneath Peter's clothes for a moment, to touch Peter's cock. But then it left, and Peter shuddered as it crept over his trousers down his length. Then Edmund's hand had cupped his arousal, firmly, and he began to massage it.

Without even really thinking, for his brain had left him again, Peter reached his hand down to rest over Edmund's, and pressed it harder over his aching cock. His hand moved with Edmund's, rubbing over the trousers. Mmm the friction was good.

"Harder," he breathed, eyes closed, and he knew he was leaning back weakly against the car door now, but he didn't care just now. If Edmund didn't stop, they would do like they had earlier, and Peter would come all over him. Not that that was bad, but…he wanted Edmund's tongue.

"Is this hard enough?" Edmund's voice was husky with desire, and Peter loved hearing it like that.

Peter let his hand drop from Edmund's, and instead, he let his fingertips trail down the outside of Edmund's thigh. He could see Edmund was hard now, too.

"I…I want more, Edmund," he said, "I want your mouth. Right now."

He could tell that pleased Ed. The hand on him moved a little faster, still going strong, and Edmund's gaze flickered to his face before going back down to what his hand was doing. He licked his lips, and Peter could see him try to hold back a smirk.

"I'm serious, Ed! Hurry up!" Damn that smirk was annoying.

Now Edmund was definitely smirking. His hand stopped moving, and he looked at Peter. "How much do you want my mouth?" He made a kissy face at Peter, and laughed.

Peter growled. "You're going to make me pay a price? I'm your brother!"

Edmund chuckled. "All the more reason to annoy you by making you pay up for my mouth. You know I don't mean money."

Peter licked his lips, and his gaze bored into Edmund's, searching. How serious was Edmund? What did he want that they weren't both currently wildly willing to give? This was just Edmund teasing him. It wasn't a blackmail threat. He had nothing on Peter, except the fact that Peter really wanted his mouth. If Edmund didn't hurry, Peter was just going to force him to do it. They had wrestled before, and Peter usually won.

Although at this point, wrestling wasn't _quite_ what he wanted to do with Edmund…

To test Peter, or to tease him, Edmund was now hovering with his mouth over the tent in Peter's trousers, and he'd started to give it a lick when Peter opened his mouth (not to agree, but because the sensation of Edmund's tongue even on his clothed cock was good). When Peter closed his mouth though, Edmund stopped.

"You want me to beg, don't you? Like you did earlier. Like," Peter swallowed, remembering, "Like _I _did earlier."

Edmund pretended to think about it, but Peter could see through him. His cock was giving him away, too.

"I will accept that payment," Edmund finally declared. Peter was reminded strongly of Edmund the Just in Narnia, for a fleeting second. Everything that came out of that King's mouth was double-edged when he spoke to Peter, but when he was dealing with subjects he was always kind.

"So." Peter held his hands up. "Make me howl."

Edmund raised his brows in a look that clearly said, _you don't know what you've just gotten into._ He immediately made short work of Peter's trousers and underclothes, so quickly, that Peter thought with a blush, it must mean he was much practiced.

Edmund was giving Peter what he wanted, but he was going to be even more an aggravating tease later, in charge for Peter having his mouth right away. Or was it right away? Edmund paused, and all of his teasing demeanor dropped for a moment, as he looked Peter up and down.

Finally Edmund's breath came from him in a whoosh, and he said bluntly, "If you weren't so damn close to coming, I would ride you so hard that I wouldn't be able to walk properly after."

He blushed bright red after he said it, and he couldn't seem to look at Peter. Peter stared, and then a choking laugh sputtered from him. "I-Is that how you talk w-with all the boys you've shagged?"

Edmund raised his chin up, a clear defensive gesture, and then he gave up his prideful glare and his head sunk to rest against Peter's shoulders. "Sometimes I would," he admitted, "But I wouldn't with you, unless…you wanted me to."

Peter was red now, because an image had come to his mind of Edmund "riding" him, and he had to admit it was appealing. His breath whistled through his teeth, and he said, "I don't know. I…I want you to do, whatever you want to do, to me."

His brother pulled back, smiling, and said, "I like how willing you are."

Then, without another word, Edmund had his mouth on Peter. It happened so fast that Peter made some sort of embarrassing keening sound. Edmund had pressed his lips to Peter's cock, and now he was giving it long, slow licks, all the way up and down. Even the sensation of Edmund's hot breath coming through his nose and tickling Peter's bare cock was good. And his tongue, lion's mane it was good…it was wet, and hot, and it licked Peter all over like Edmund had never wanted anything more. It licked him so much; his cock got really wet, and then as Edmund sucked in the head of Peter's cock, just the head, his nimble fingers were stroking the balls and base of Peter's cock, and Peter couldn't breathe anymore.

His head was pounding, and he felt like all of his senses were on overdrive. He could feel the tight grip that Edmund's hands now had on his hips, holding them down and still. That grip was hard enough to bruise. Edmund's breath was fast on his skin when he wasn't licking him, and Peter clenched his teeth tight, but it didn't hold back his sounds. He moaned, pushing up for more of Edmund's mouth, and Edmund chuckled. Just the sound of that low chuckle was good.

When his brother's tongue lazed against the underside, Peter bucked his hips up against Edmund, and groaned low, "Faster, Ed…"

"I need to hear the magic words, Pete."

Peter groaned as that tongue now slipped near his cock but refused to touch it. At the same time Edmund's fingers were skimming up and down Peter's thighs and it was driving him mad. He was ready to pound into Edmund's hot mouth as Edmund had so voraciously done with him. So as Edmund's tongue wiggled over his thigh, Peter grabbed Edmund's hair and pulled his brother up, up till those full lips touched his cock.

Edmund whispered over him, "That is the furthest thing from a 'please' I've ever experienced. Do you need some encouragement?"

He pinched Peter's thigh, hard, and then laid himself against Peter again, so Peter could feel the thrum of Edmund's cock against his. Wow that felt good. Then, pulling back with a flush of lust on his face, Edmund dipped his head again.

This time, his mouth wasn't on Peter's thighs or his cock. Instead, he eased Peter down in his sitting position, and pushed Peter's thighs wider apart. Then, suddenly, his tongue was diving in a deep crevice below…Peter tried to sit upright, shocked by the new move and somewhat horrified, but Edmund held him down long enough for him to realize that the sensations Edmund was creating with his tongue were wonderful. And it was better the deeper his tongue went inside.

Unbidden, Peter cried out, "ED," and then his voice faded to a whisper, "What the hell are you doing…oh, please…please," he gasped for breath.

Edmund surfaced from his treatment of that secret spot, and he said, "You haven't howled yet." He was flushed, and his cock had risen up fully. Peter could tell from Edmund's excited manner that he was really enjoying the effect he was having on Peter.

So close, too close to argue, Peter fell back again, half against the door and half on the seat, and he realized his thighs had been clenching Edmund's head as his hands yanked Edmund's hair. Oh god…He cupped his hands over his face in embarrassment, and murmured with a crackly voice, "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

That seemed enough for Edmund, for he ducked in again. Immediately his thrusting, hot tongue was deep inside Peter, and Peter was making a sound deep in his throat that seemed to come from some other world. He knew he was thrusting his hips down against Ed's delicious tongue, and his sweaty thighs had Edmund's hair plastered against them, but he couldn't stop moving in time to Edmund's tongue.

Finally Edmund was in the deepest he could go, and as he flicked his tongue against that certain spot, ripples of pleasure burst all over Peter. He knew he was whimpering high and fast, howling just like Edmund had wanted him to. Edmund moved his tongue in again, again, and each move forced a sound out of Peter. Then Edmund's mouth was taking in his cock, and he had a moment to thrust in before he came.

Edmund's mouth was working over him, deliberate and smooth and expert; Peter watched as his brother drank his seed, the long lashes fluttering as Edmund closed his eyes in evident pleasure. At the same time, Edmund wrapped his hand around his own cock, and Peter watched as his brother drew back from him and came with shaking breaths.

When it was done, Peter lay back, spent. Edmund pulled back, and his hand skimmed Peter's slick thighs with a sense of ownership – the gesture seemed to say _now you're mine and no one else's_ – before he stretched back out to the other end of the front seat again.

They both panted to catch their breath, and Peter had his head flung back. He gasped for air, feeling deliciously heavy and pleased all over, but at the same time his mind was full, wondering what Edmund would do next, and what else Edmund could do, and where the hell had he _learned_ to use his tongue like that? Where had he learned to lick Peter _there_? It felt so wrong, and so weird, but Peter felt elated all the same. He had never had such a good physical experience, ever, and with all the feeling that Edmund put into it, it wasn't a hollow melding of two desires together; it was so much more than all the pleasure that Edmund was able to bring into his body.

They lay there together, silent, naked. It was a strange sort of camaraderie that Peter bet Edmund had had with other young men, but never had they had it. He would have questioned this and felt so guilty, had it not been for Aslan's message to them both. Inside of him he thanked Aslan for his blessings. He loved the joy in Edmund's face. He felt a surge of love and affection rush up into him, when he lifted his head up and saw Edmund smiling at him. Peter smiled back.

As if the smile was an invitation, Edmund crawled over to Peter, and turned around, so that he lay with his back against Peter, and his head cradled by Peter's shoulder. "You know," he said, and nuzzled his nose into Peter's neck, "I've wanted this for so long. Now that it's here…I'm feeling quite possessive of you."

Peter laughed as Edmund nipped his neck, and replied, "Well, good. I…I feel the same. You can't imagine how jealous I've been of Tom this past week. Letters and…a-and…'buggering all over town.'"

He heard Edmund swallow, and then Edmund shifted so they could look at each other. They were nearly nose to nose. "You…you really felt jealous of him?" Edmund asked.

Peter nodded. "Yes. Very. It made me feel very angry with myself…"

"What about," he could see Edmund lick his lips, working to figure out how to phrase the question. Edmund drew one hand through his hair, and then seemed to give up on finding the right words. He blurted, "What about all those girls you've been with?"

Peter narrowed his eyes at Edmund. "How d'you know about that?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Right, you think I don't know the signs of sex? I could practically smell it on you when you came home. You didn't always know I was there, but I saw you returning from it enough times to be able to tell what was going on. And it's not like there are a lot of bars around here; you hear who leaves with whom."

Peter opened his mouth to say something angry, something about Edmund intruding on his privacy, but then he stopped, and laughed instead. "You always read me easily. Was I that obvious? Do you…do you think mum or the girls sensed it?"

"Nah. They've got other things on their minds. Susan's too caught up in her makeup land, and Lucy would always rather be in a book. Mum…" His voice seemed to constrict, and he changed the topic abruptly, saying, "So, was I better than all those girls?"

Peter groaned at Edmund's possessiveness. It was worse than Peter's past jealousy! "Edmund," he growled, "You're better than all of them combined."

Edmund raised his eyebrows. He doubted.

"I'm serious," Peter intoned gravely. "I never wanted them. They were just…fixes, because I really only wanted you. I just thought that…it wasn't like that between us."

Edmund stared at him seriously for a few moments, and then snuggled back down into Peter more. "Thank God it is."

Peter smiled. "Yes. I think I would've exploded if I'd had to wait any longer…"

Edmund laughed. "Well, you did explode. On me. Earlier today…"

Peter knew Edmund was talking about the grinding and the tea tray incident earlier, and now he could laugh along. It was funny, in retrospect…without all the horror and panic that had come immediately after.

Then he licked his lips, remembering the sight of Edmund treating himself on the bed, and Edmund coming earlier, and now Edmund was naked and cozy in his arms…He grinned to himself, and stroked the back of his hand lightly down the side of Edmund's head. He shut his eyes and focused on the softness of Edmund's skin underneath his fingers, tracing the jaw and the light stubble there, down to the throat where Edmund's Adam's apple was jumping.

"I like…you touching me like that. All soft," Edmund murmured.

Peter remained silent and just kept at it. He liked it, too. He liked the feel of Edmund's warmth against him, the rise and fall of Edmund's breath so close, the way Edmund's hand was pressed up against his thigh in that possessive manner.

He kissed the top of his brother's head. His idle fingers flowed smoothly, down to tweak the long hair at the back of Edmund's neck, down across the light hairs on his arms, and back up, where he let his fingers swirl up and around, making a random path up his brother's torso.

His fingers played with Edmund's nipples, squeezing a little, creating a soft sound from his brother. As he rubbed over one with thumb and finger, Peter tilted his head to the side, and kissed Edmund's cheek below his ear. A pleased "Mmm" came from Edmund's mouth, and in return, he put a kiss to Peter's jaw. That kiss turned into a second, and a third, and Peter's hand had moved down now to trace the shape of his brother's hip.

Edmund's tongue was in action suddenly, sucking at the hollow of Peter's throat. Peter knew his breath was speeding up, and he wanted Edmund to turn over, so he could feel the front of him against his body. When his hands maneuvered Edmund to turn over, he was surprised his brother let him take command. Then their bodies were flush against each other, and Peter threw his head back as Edmund's lust took over.

The brunette had his hands on Peter's shoulders, and he was pushing lightly against Peter, so that his cock brushed against Peter's stomach and his thighs and oh, his cock. Edmund felt warm against him, and his lips were wet at Peter's throat again, and Peter scraped his nails down his brother's back when Edmund bit hard - over his neck, over his nipples, teeth scraping down his belly, mouth suckling down to his cock, his balls, down between his legs again; he knew he was thrusting down against Edmund's mouth once more. Edmund's hands against his thighs were rough and bleeding him but it was good.

He knew he was making humiliating sounds again, but he couldn't help it; it felt so good. So when Edmund stopped suddenly, and lifted his head, Peter grumbled in protest. He opened his mouth to say something about it, but there was an intensity in Edmund's gaze that made him shut his mouth. Then Edmund was laying his delicious body over Peter's, and Peter gasped as he realized his brother's cock was pressing, pressing down between his thighs.

Edmund's intense look said it all. He wanted inside Peter, and he wanted it desperately, but he wouldn't go any further if Peter didn't want to. Peter swallowed, hard, and closed his eyes. Did he want it go this far? He remembered what Aslan had said, and he remembered all of his fantasies. Most of them had had himself over Edmund, taking the dominant position. But now he had to admit, Edmund was the one with experience, and Edmund being dominant was actually quite good. Peter enjoyed it. And Edmund was looking at him now with a plea in his eyes. He really, really wanted this.

But he wouldn't say anything. Not even, "Peter." He seemed to know that even that might have the power to send Peter over the edge, into "yes", and he wanted Peter to decide all on his own. Peter shivered as he wondered what would it feel like? Would it hurt? Would he hate it? Would he love it?

He slid his hand down and grasped Edmund's cock. The sensation made Edmund gasp, but Peter didn't look at him. His body was pulsing hard and hot, his cock was heavy, and he _did_ want more. He wanted to have this with Edmund – this bond, and the joy of sex, and all the love that Aslan had said it was okay for them to have for each other. He wanted all that intensity in Edmund's gaze to be his forever and ever, not just in these moments in the car where they had shared joy in each other's embrace.

"Yes," he croaked out, before he could stop himself. "Please, Ed."

Edmund licked his lips. He didn't say anything. He didn't say, "Are you sure?" He just nodded his head, slowly.

Then suddenly he was pressed up against Peter; his body was flush against Peter's body, their sweat mingling. Peter could hear the panting of Edmund's excited breath, smell the familiar scent of his brother, and the heat, oh it was consuming! It was all over Edmund, delicious against Peter, and most tense and delicious of all was the hard heat of his cock. It pressed up against Peter's wet entrance, and Peter shut his eyes tight, and grabbed Edmund's shoulder. He knew he bit on it in pain, knowing as if from some far distance place, as Edmund entered him in one sharp movement.

Edmund was inside of him. He was so hot. He was so hard. Peter opened his eyes and Edmund was looking at him with concern. He whispered to Peter, "You alright?"

Peter bit his lip and nodded. He shut his eyes again as Edmund exited and then entered him again. He pushed in rough and quick again; a few times, he was rougher like this. Then, he entered slowly and tenderly, and murmured, "Peter. Peter, please look at me." His voice seemed about to break.

Peter opened his eyes. Edmund looked like he was about to cry. Immediately Peter cursed himself for hurting Edmund. He was in pain, but it was going to be joy, wasn't it? It was love, and therefore even the pain was good. He had enjoyed the pain Edmund had given him, until now – the bites, the scratches, the scrapes. He enjoyed some roughness. This was simply different than anything he had ever felt before. His body was being invaded. But it was Edmund! But it hurt. What could he say or do?

He pushed himself more against Edmund's body, and his voice was throaty as he said, "Keep going, Ed. Keep going."

So Edmund moved within him, slower, tender still, and Peter began to feel a bliss rise up within him. He began to feel joy in the way that Edmund filled him, in how close he was to Edmund's hot, hard, cock. His own cock was aching, and every touch of Edmund's belly against it, and Edmund's thighs against his, was good. He opened his eyes again, and smiled at Edmund.

Encouraged, the brunette began to move faster into Peter. Peter heard himself groaning, suddenly, loudly, as that hard cock slammed home into that delicious spot inside him. He held onto Edmund's arms, groaning his brother's name, as Edmund's cock pounded into him again and again. It felt good. Peter felt himself spiraling into some new place he had never been, and pleasure was rippling over him in waves and coursing through his every limb. He twisted against Edmund, and Edmund moaned a delicious, soft noise against Peter. That wild tongue licked over Peter's ears and his neck. Edmund thrust into Peter, and Peter had his hands on Edmund's hips, groaning in time to Edmund's movements.

He began to bite Edmund, biting his shoulders, biting his neck, and then he pushed up once, against Edmund. In response, his brother lifted his head up, and growled, "Again." So Peter, loving the sound of that growl, pushed up again and again. Edmund growled more, louder, god he was loud against Peter. The brunette was roaring over Peter, harder and faster, as Peter was making his own sounds.

When he moved against Edmund equally faster, and clenched the walls of his body over Edmund's sensitive cock, the brunette gasped, "Oh Peter…Pete!" and Peter did it again, and again, shoving his hips up so that their bodies slammed into each other. His cock was rubbing a wild friction against Edmund's belly, and those hands were all over him – in his hair, over his arms, rubbing his back, his sides, and then suddenly Edmund's hands had dived to touch his buttocks, and was pushing Peter against him so hard that Edmund's cock brushed that sensitive spot hard and Peter shouted.

He enjoyed the way Edmund gasped his name as Edmund thrust into him and touched him all over. He enjoyed pressing his hands into Edmund's hips, and the heat and sweat between them. Edmund was wild, shouting, and the more he became wild the more Peter did, too. Peter was pushing against his brother so much, and that cock was full and hard within him, he didn't want it to ever leave him. He wanted all of Edmund, and he had it – those eyes burned with lust and love when Edmund lifted his head, and planted a kiss on Peter's mouth.

Whispering Edmund's name, Peter pushed his hands up against Edmund's chest, and pushed Edmund back, so that now the brunette was lying against the car seat. He lifted his body up, slowly, slowly, and then slammed down. His body swallowed Edmund's cock deliciously, and when he slammed home again, after lifting slowly, he heard Edmund whimper. He loved that sound.

Peter had his head thrown back, and he began to move faster over Edmund, to the sound of Edmund's shouts. He was bouncing over Edmund now, jiggling, and he felt the slap of Edmund's balls and the scrape of his thighs and Edmund's hard, tense hands were holding onto his forearms, and he dug his fingers into the rippling of Edmund's belly, feeling the muscles clench as Edmund thrust into him again and again.

Finally he slowed, slower, slower, until there was a sweet burn and slide to his movement. The burn was as he pulled up, and Edmund's slick cock eased out of his body, and the slide was as he pushed down, and that heat and hardness, the long length and filling, slid into his body in one smooth, wet, gliding movement. Beneath him, Edmund was murmuring his name. Peter knew he was groaning, and his fingers were teasing Edmund's nipples with little rubbings and tweaks.

His head hung low over Edmund, and he watched that cock enter him again and again. His breath was harsh and fast in him, but he liked it, and he liked to see Edmund…lion's mane, there had never been a more beautiful sight. The sight alone almost sent him over the edge. Edmund's body was spread out beneath him, and his thighs clenched hard against Peter. Beneath Peter, his torso glistened with sweat, his nipples were erect, and his red red mouth was glistening and swollen with biting. He breathed harshly through his nose, and his eyes were shut. His hair was a mess of darkness splashed over the car seat, and when Peter pushed down extra hard, Edmund pushed up, and his arms reached up to pull Peter to him.

For a moment Peter lay there. He took in the sweat and heat of Edmund's body, the way Edmund swept sweaty tendrils of his hair from his forehead. He felt the softness of Edmund's hands contrast with the hard lance of his cock. Then that sweet mouth was kissing him, suckling over his tongue, and those teasing fingers were tracing a vein on his cock now, and Peter couldn't breathe. He pulled out of the kiss, and as Edmund's hand touched his aching cock with just light touches of his fingertips, Peter breathed, "Yes…yes."

Edmund laughed. "Yes? You mean no. You don't want it to end so soon, do you?" He looked up at Peter.

Peter pressed against Edmund again. "I don't. I…I don't know what I'll do when we're done."

Edmund kissed Peter, slow and lustful, making both groan. Then he said, "We're never done."

Peter did not try to make sense of that. He liked the sound of it. He lifted himself up again, and then allowed Edmund to push him back, to dominate the scene. Edmund's hands spread his legs wider apart, and he pushed into Peter with a moderate tempo, a steady rhythm. It gave them time to kiss, to lick, to listen to each other's sounds, and Peter exulted in the heavy weight of Edmund inside him, in the burst of dizzy pleasure as Edmund's cock hit that spot occasionally.

Then he felt the pleasure rising within him, higher and higher; he clenched against Edmund, and he wrapped his arms around his brother. There was nothing like this! Nothing had ever been this good. Groaning his brother's name, he drowned in the sensations as Edmund slammed home again and again. The leather seats were squeaking and he could smell the sweat and taste it on his tongue, and Edmund's body was so hard and perfect against him. Those pale hands brushed over his chest and then Edmund was kissing him again, long and hard.

Peter came with a gasp, pulling back from the kiss, and at the same time Edmund threw his head back. He pushed within Peter a couple more times, and then suddenly a delicious heat and wet shot within Peter, hard and powerful, and at the same time Edmund was moaning and he pushed his head up against Peter's chest. His fingertips were digging into Peter's hips. Peter could feel Edmund's hot, harsh breath against him. He shut his eyes as they fell from orgasm, and he was relieved that Edmund did not pull out of him or away.

They lay together like that for Peter knew not how long. It was a hot sweet jumble of panting breaths and their scents combining in the air around them. Peter enjoyed the heavy weight of his brother on top of him. Just the fact that Edmund was like this, lying over him, after _sex_…wow. Peter had never thought he would get this, ever, and had never thought he would feel okay about getting it. But Aslan had made it okay, and god it had been good! He hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

Lovingly, Peter stroked his fingers through Edmund's hair. He whispered, "Ed…mmm…you were so good…thank you."

He felt Edmund smile against him and then the brunette lifted his head up and looked at Peter. His smile was gorgeous, so pleased, and he looked beautiful with sweat beaded on his neck and tendrils of hair sticking to his skin. He looked delicious; he made Peter want to lick him all over. But…Peter did not want to move, ever, from this wonderful position.

_XOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOOXOXOOXOXO_

_More soon!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you all so much for the love! =) I'm so happy to have written this fic. It was a lot of fun. I almost wanted to write more after this last chapter, a fun 'epilogue,' but now I've moved on to another fic idea of mine (an HP/DM/BZ fic in the Harry Potter fandom, if anyone is interested; it's called "Every You, Every Me"). Maybe someday I'll come back to this fic and write their "next time". =3_

**NOT MY CUP OF TEA**

**by The Ultimate Otaku**

_XOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXO_

_Chapter 5_

_Edmund's POV_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXX_

Peter. His Peter. Peter was his! It felt so good to think that. It made Edmund smile even more.

"Peter," he whispered. It felt so good to be with Peter like this, lying over him, having taken him and tasted him and drunk him and all his love and lust in. "I love you," he said, because that was what was bursting in him right now – love.

He drank in the sight of Peter, the feel of Peter, the smell, everything. He tried to memorize the sensation of Peter's body still around him. He reached his hand up to touch Peter's hand in his hair, and grabbing it, he pulled it down and brushed his lips over it. It reminded him of kissing the ladies' hands in Narnia, which made him laugh. It made him laugh because it was so weird to think of women right now, when he had just enjoyed so much with a man, with _his Peter_. He also laughed because he remembered kissing all those ladies' hands and dancing with them, while secretly longing so much for Peter. Now he had him.

When Peter told him he loved him, too, Edmund closed his eyes and let a happy sigh fall from him. He lay there and just listened to the sound of Peter's breath. He let his brother's long, soft fingers strokes his brow, and he loved how intimate it felt. Peter was his, and he was Peter's. Finally. After so long! It was a not a struggle for control, or a struggle to prove who was better at something, or who was manlier, nobler, braver, anything…it was just love, and they were together, and it was perfect.

He rubbed his cheek against Peter's chest, and listened as a laugh rumbled from Peter, and he felt it travel up Peter's body and bounce him.

"You're so…affectionate," Peter whispered. "All of that anger and frustration…it changes so wonderfully when you're…"

Edmund coaxed an eye open and lifted his head up to eyeball Peter with it. "When I'm with you. That's the real answer. But we could also say that it comes out wonderfully when I'm horny. And when I'm…" he licked his lips, "fucking you."

Peter rolled his eyes. "We've only done it once and you're already making all these bold declarations. I bet you're basing your information off of all those times with Tom…"

Edmund thought of all the surfaces in the dorm he and Tom had fucked against, and wished suddenly, urgently, that he could do that with Peter. When would the women go on another grocery shopping spree? He would eat extra this week, then they'd run out of food faster.

"We'll have to do it again…and again…to see how good I am," Edmund said. He knew he was being arrogant, but Peter was, all the time, and he didn't get embarrassed over it or apologize for it, either.

Peter's hand slipped from his and stroked up his neck, to his jaw, to trace over his lips. He eyes were like hungry blue flame. Mmm. "Yes," he murmured, "Indeed."

He looked so good with his hair messy. He looked so good naked. He looked so good all the time, but especially now, with hunger and satisfaction mixed in together, and his gaze and attention and love, absolutely focused on Edmund. It was everything Edmund had ever wanted.

Edmund was tempted to sleep there, in a light content doze with Peter so close. It would be so good. But they were in the car, they had made it sweaty and gross, and time was not their friend. Another day – _when the women are out grocery shopping_, he thought – they would have his or Peter's bed to just laze and snuggle in after sex. Soon! It had to be soon!

Gently he eased off and out of Peter, and they both sighed in reluctance at the decrease in intimacy. Edmund sat back on his haunches and said, "So, Pete…" he licked his lips. The thought had just crashed into his mind: What if Peter didn't want this to happen ever again? What if it was a one-night thing? Shit.

Peter seemed to read the fear in his eyes, because he said, "What is it? I'm not as good at reading things as you and Lucy are."

Edmund smirked at that. But then his smirk left, and he blurted, "Um, we're doing this again, right?"

He was staring at the space of seat between them now.

"Edmund," Peter said, a little sharply. Then his voice softened. "Of course we will."

Edmund's head shot up and he grinned at Peter. "Alright! Eat a lot this week, then. They'll have to go shop again, and we'll have the house to our selves…"

Peter stared at him, and then burst out laughing. "You sure think fast!"

They sat grinning at each other stupidly, and then Peter started putting his clothes back on, and Edmund did the same. When they sat up, Peter groaned, and Edmund looked at him knowingly. "Sore, right?"

A deep flush colored Peter's face and it was delightful to watch. "Um, yes…" He winced.

Edmund wanted to laugh, but he stopped himself. He would let Peter keep his pride. But he was proud of himself, because just…it was good, to know his ministrations and coupling with Peter had created that pain in Peter's body. He knew it was a good sort of pain. He remembered his first…oh yes, that had hurt.

Suddenly sympathetic, he said, "Take a hot bath. It'll help."

Peter stretched, and then opened the door behind him and stepped out. "Thanks. Ouch!"

Edmund laughed and stepped out too. He looked up at the night stars twinkling down on them, and thought of Aslan. Somehow the sky always made him think of Narnia. It had that certain beauty to it that Narnia had, the way it sparkled at night. He closed his eyes for a few moments and sent a silent thanks to Aslan for making this happen.

Then he looked at Peter and said, "How are we going to…" He gestured towards the car.

Peter's head disappeared a moment, and then reappeared for a brief blip before a sudden shocking coldness smacked Edmund right in the face.

"Shit!" Edmund spluttered. "What…?" He spluttered and shook his head to make the snowball that had hit him so forcefully drop away.

Peter laughed. "That's for teasing me so much earlier. Even if it was…good." He flushed again, and through the sting as Edmund scraped snow from behind his ear, he thought how good that look was on Peter. He'd have to make sure to embarrass him more.

"That's our solution, too," Peter said. "Snow. Water. We'll clean it out with that…and leave a window cracked. To air it out. And maybe a trip tomorrow or something? It would be nice to go somewhere…together."

Edmund thought of the silent, cold Peter that had been taking trips the past week, and at the idea that Peter was now happy and his and wanted to go out together, he felt warmth bubble in him. "Yes," he agreed, nodding. "I'd like that."

They cleaned the car, and themselves, as best they could. Edmund didn't hear another complaint from Peter about the pain, but occasionally he'd look up and see Peter gnawing his lip in a way that rather reminded him of himself. But in Peter it was a sign of pain, not irritation or nervousness.

They walked back to the house, slowly, secretly wishing they could be more open, but Edmund felt happy, because they'd be out again tomorrow, hopefully just the two of them, and he would eat his way into making sure they'd get to be alone in the house soon, too.

When they returned inside, Mother and Susan were gone from the dining room. Lucy sat in the living room, curled up reading a book. Edmund watched as Peter strode down the hall straight to the bathroom for his bath. Edmund stopped by the living room, and paused to ruffle Lucy's hair.

She grumbled at this move, and shook her head. Then she looked up at him, and grinned impishly. It was a very mischievous smirk, and Edmund wondered what it was doing here right now.

"What?" he said in response.

Lucy giggled, and then turned her head back to her book. "Nothing," she said. "I had extra fun shopping with mum and Susan today, is all."

Edmund stared at her, mystified. What? She was trying to tell him something there, but he wasn't catching it. His body felt suddenly tired from all that hard, good fucking…god, he needed a bath, too. He shrugged, saying, "Alright, Lu," and walked down the corridor.

When he was sure Lu was back in her book, and he heard Susan humming from her room, he ducked into the bathroom.

Peter sat in the tub with a scowl on his face, but when he saw who it was he bit back curses about the broken door and blushed, instead. Edmund smirked. He grabbed the toothpaste from the counter, and jammed it a little under the door, so it was out of sight, but enough to keep the door from budging immediately were someone to try and open it.

He sauntered over to Peter, and then leaned down. "Feeling any better yet?"

Peter licked his lips. "Yes. And when I'm done here, I'm sure I'll sleep well tonight."

They shared a secret smile. Good. Peter was in pain but pleased and content, too. Edmund couldn't wait to do more with him. But for now…He smiled, and whispered sweetly, teasingly, "Can I get a good night kiss?"

Peter laughed quietly, and then his slippery hands were on Edmund, his chest, jaw, hair, and he yanked Edmund down and kissed him. It was a good, hard kiss at first, hungry, and Edmund bit back a moan. But then the kiss became tender and chaste, and somehow that alone left Edmund shivering for more when Peter drew back.

"Good enough, or do you want more?" Peter's eyes looked brighter when he was teasing back.

Edmund cleared his throat. "That will do…for now."

He slid his clothes off then, and washed off too, squished with Peter in the tub. When he was done, he turned and fled, before the temptation to do it again and wind up getting them caught came to him. First though, before he left, he whispered, "Good night."

Peter, scrubbing his hair and standing in a towel, blew him a kiss in response. It was so silly, and so unlike the cold, serious Peter that Edmund had experienced the last week, and so _unkingly_, that Edmund just had to laugh. He laughed on the way back to his room, and changed into his night clothes, and flopped into bed.

He fell asleep that night with a smile on his lips.

~THE END


End file.
